Trouble in St Tropez
by GratuitousViolets
Summary: Sequel to "Derranged Marriage". The newly weds take off to St. Tropez for a week in the sun following the traumatic events in Louisiana; on the surface everything seems fine but is Remy LeBeau really as together as he seems or is he being haunted by his troubled past?
1. Part 1

**Trouble in St. Tropez**

**Part One**

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****** It should be noted that this is an _unfinished_ sequel to "Derranged Marriage". For a good long while I've held back putting even the first chapter up because I've been having a bit of a struggle getting back into the writing of it. Recently I've started re-writing the entire thing (other than this chapter, which regardless of re-writes has _always _remained the same). Although the story is in no way near completion, I felt it was time to upload a piece as there's been so many requests for it. I'm not sure how long it will be between this and the next update, all I can say is I am working on it (and I, Assassin...some day it'll be complete even though not many are reading it currently). **

**Since I've been complained at in the past for not giving enough trigger warnings, I'll advise from the get go here that there most definitely will be references to child abuse/sexual molestation at some point (it was important to "Derranged Marriage" so it's sort of impossible to avoid here. If these things bother you, I'd recommend reading elsewhere. Some of you who may have read other stories I have written most likely expect the angst, but there probably won't be quite as much as the "Magnetic Attraction" trilogy if it's any consolation.**

**Anyway, here it is, the first part of the sequel to "Derranged Marriage". I hope you all enjoy it.**

* * *

The scenery was spectacular; she wasn't sure she'd ever seen water so green in all her life...she was sure she'd never seen a beach so white, nor a sky so _clear_.

The view from the balcony onto the private beach was absolutely stunning...more breathtaking than she'd imagined it would be when Remy had told her _this_ she'd be coming. She could barely believe that the whole of it was _theirs_ and theirs alone for the next week. She took in the endless ocean, there seemed to be nothing else on the horizon but water and a few speed boats skipping along the waves, leaving trails of white behind them.

Rogue had to take a deep breath and exhale slowly; as she stood there with her hands on the iron railing, she felt almost exhilarated...and privileged to have such a view almost completely to herself.

Well...almost to herself.

"It's quite somethin', isn't it?" she heard Remy LeBeau at her back; she glanced over her shoulder to look in through the open patio doors to see him changing his shirt in the villa's master bedroom. He'd chosen the most gaudy Hawaiian shirt the gift shop at the airport had had to offer, and she'd lamented him buying such a monstrosity. It was an absolute utter eyesore; she was almost certain he'd bought the damn thing just to spite her. The more she'd complained about it, the more he'd seemed eager to purchase it.

_"Who gon' see me in it apart from y'self?_" he had asked of her as she'd shook her head while he'd held it up against himself to check the size was ideal.

"_We're not even in Hawaii,_" she had reminded, rolling her eyes.

Oddly enough, Remy LeBeau had one of those physiques and faces that seemed to make even dull rags look good, so it was no surprise that somehow, he could pull off a truly heinous shirt and still look like a male model. She didn't want to admit that though, the boy already was _far _too confident about his looks to be complimented on making the ugliest shirt on earth look like this season's style.

"You look ridiculous," she remarked, folding her arms and letting her back rest against the rail as she stared into the room.

"I look _good _and y' know it."

She crossed her ankles and laughed. "Seriously...you're going to go out _looking_ like that?"

"I'll look inconspicuous. Like just another average tourist tryin' t' look the part."

"Yeah...yeah that's exactly what you look like," Rogue chortled, she turned back to the view, "Ah...should probably call Logan, let him know we arrived safe."

"Call him later," Remy said as he came to join her on the balcony. Rogue still wasn't able to block out the way his voice was always tinged with jealously any time Logan's name was mentioned.

"He asked me to call him when we arrived," Rogue reminded.

"Sure he'll know we got here. He's probably trackin' the flight," Remy muttered coolly, he leaned against the rail. "Just call him later, okay? You're on vacation, you don't need to be under his thumb while you're away. B'sides, he's prob'ly still in a mood with y'. He didn' look too _happy_ when he saw us off t' the airport yesterday," Remy grinned as he let his forearms rest against the rail and hunched a little to stare out over the view.

"Ah guess he's not happy that we're not coming back yet," Rogue admitted. Yes, Logan had certainly given her that impression when he'd saw them to the terminal. His expression clouded with apprehension, his voice gruff as he said goodbye almost disapprovingly.

"We deserve a vacation, chere," Remy reminded.

"Which is the only reason he _didn't_ drag both our asses back to Bayville," said Rogue with a smirk. "He pulled me aside while you were in the bathroom and said to me 'separate rooms, separate bathrooms, and at least look in to getting that annulment'."

Remy's smile dropped only slightly, and Rogue caught it. She could tell he wasn't too enthusiastic about the idea of looking into an annulment right now. She wasn't positive there _needed_ to be an annulment if she'd used a fake name but Logan's insistence made her wonder if this was merely a formality so that Remy felt the _finality of _it. He was taking this fake marriage far more seriously than Rogue felt he should be and that needed to be dealt with, what better way than to have a fake annulment to finish a fake marriage?

"So...what's to do around here?" Rogue asked to change the subject; it was too soon to broach the subject properly, and Remy was still too hurt over things that had happened only days ago. It was easier to avoid bringing up unhappiness and try to instead focus on the more positive things all around them.

_Take advantage of all this around us right now, he's probably gonna need it after what came out in Louisiana,_ she told herself.

"Sunbathin', swimmin'...can rent a boat. We can do whatever y' want."

"Ah'm not sure what Ah want to do right now," Rogue confessed. It was hard to know what she wanted to do here when she hadn't truly wanted to come at all. Remy's current state of mind had been the _only _reason she'd agreed to this. This was for him, and she'd go along with it for now...anything to help him get over the trauma.

"There's a brochure in the livin' room of all the activities goin' on the area," Remy said. "Y' can surf that and lemme know what y' feel like doin'. Or if y' like, y' can just chill on a lounger on the deck with cocktail in your hand and enjoy the sea breeze. Whatever y' feel like."

"What kind of stuff do _you_ do when you're here?" she asked.

"Last time I come here, I got drunk every night and woke up in some pretty weird places..." he shrugged.

"Define weird," Rogue dared.

"Uhm...one mornin' woke up t' find I was asleep in the cargo deck of a ship twenty miles out from land...that was a _weird_ one. Don' even remember how I got there...or where I'd been drinkin' b'fore hand. Played poker wit' the crew durin' the Journey t' their next port."

"That's not _that_ weird..." Rogue reasoned. "A little odd, but not overly weird."

"Okay...how about this? Once woke up next t' a transexual exotic dancer called 'Tiffany'. Apparently I had just crashed at 'her' place after spendin' the night learnin' how t' pole dance t' Tom Jones' song 'Sex Bomb'."

She blinked.

"When I woke up I was wearing those platform see-through stripper shoes and a boa...and ever since I've had a pretty hard time gettin' that damn song outta m' head."

"Remind me to not let you _drink_ in future, Remy..." Rogue frowned. The image she had in her head of Remy spinning around a stripper pole dancing to 'Sex Bomb' she was sure was about to stick in her head forever more. She would never be able to hear that song ever again without picturing it. She supposed she should lock that thought away for when she was at her most desperate and despairing and needed some serious laughter.

Or at least lock it away for blackmail purposes should he ever annoy her in future.

"People drink on vacation, chere, and they get a little crazy. It's normal," he said casually, he studied the view, his expression placid. "Why you think people go away for vacation instead of stayin' in their home towns? T' get away and _do _stupid shit they wouldn't normally do."

"Shouldn't be drinkin' when you're under age," she remarked coolly. It wasn't the under age drinking that worried her, but to say so would cause only conflict between them and it felt too early into their vacation for her to start picking fights.

"Yeah, well," he glanced towards her, "We're eighteen, and eighteen isn't under age here so no laws gon' be broke. Anyway, my I.D. Shows me as _Jeremy LeNoir, _remember?"

"Oh yeah," Rogue made a face, "the twenty-five year old snob."

"Chill out, we're here to relax..." he shoved her playfully.

"Ah know," she forced a smile.

"In seven days we'll be heading back to Bayville; in the meantime, I suggest y' enjoy what _peace_ and _tranquillity_ y' _have_ while y' _can,_" he stretched and gave a yawn. "Y' gon' miss it."

Rogue watched him; it was hard to read him now that he was away from the horrible memories of his old home. It was like he was a different person away from that place. However, he wasn't a different person; on the outside he may have been very good at playing a character, but Rogue knew flying to France and escaping his old home wasn't going to stifle the problems of the person inside of that character. Nothing was _that_ simple.

Remy pushed himself away from the balcony rail and went back into the room, he combed his hair away from his face with his fingers and sat upon the edge of the king sized bed.

"Satin sheets," she said with a glance at the bed, which seemed ridiculously oversized after spending the past few weeks sleeping in a small single bed crushed up against someone else. It wasn't the only bed in the Villa either, there was another room down the hall, and they were connected by a bathroom even grander than the one from the hotel in Las Vegas.

"Yeah...very decadent," he let his fingers glide over the cream-coloured shimmering material. "Y' ever sleep in satin sheets, chere?" he asked, a hint of playfulness in his smooth voice.

"Not really," she confessed as she stepped into the room, she stood by the wall, watching him.

"Nothin' like slippin' beneath cool clean satin sheets on a hot night," he replied, he stretched himself across the bed and smirked, "nude of course."

"Sick," Rogue made a face. "You don't know who the hell has been sleepin' between those sheets. What if they didn't even wash them?"

"Price I paid for this pad, them sheets better b' _brand new,_" Remy frowned at the sheets for a moment.

"What _did _you pay for this?" Rogue asked curiously, folding her arms.

"Never _y' _mind," he smirked. "Enough. Lets just say I paid enough."

Rogue eyed the bed up again, she felt frustrated with the idea of sharing a bed draped with expensive satin sheets with the boy. "So..." she said. It seemed he almost read her mind, because he immediately responded.

"This your bed," he patted with a soft laugh. "I _also _got the warnin' about separate rooms from Logan before we left."

"Ohh," she mouthed.

"I'm gon' sleep in the room down the hall," he swung his thumb over his shoulder. "We'll be sharin' a bathroom, though. And the rooms are _connected _by the bathroom, just so y' know," he teased, "in case y'...y' know, _wan' _to sneak over or anythin'."

"That won't be happening," Rogue raised an eyebrow at him as she glanced at the bed uneasily, she felt it would be strange to sleep alone in a bed that seemed four or five times the size of her own bed at home in Bayville. It would be just strange to sleep alone in _any_ bed now that she hadn't done so since becoming a _married_ woman. The closest she'd come to sleeping alone since had been on the couch in their honeymoon suite.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked.

"No," she answered. Truthfully, no, there was _nothing_ wrong with having a bed to herself again, finally. She just wished this luxury vacation had been a little less luxury. Perhaps it was _too luxurious_ to enjoy. Even living in a mansion, she'd never been used to - what Kitty had always referred to as – _the good life_. It had been uncomfortable enough spending a night in the honeymoon suite of their hotel in Vegas...everything had been so pristine and perfect she'd been afraid of touching things at times...almost like she'd get things _dirty. _And she always found it hard to not be conscious of the prices of these places and how the money _could_ somehow be put to better use.

Remy patted the bed in front of him and inclined his head for her to join him. She chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully and studied him for a moment as he lay there on his side, head propped upon his hand.

She felt her cheeks heat up a little, and she looked down to the floor.

"C'mere," he commanded.

It felt awkward, still. Even after all they had been through together. They hadn't spent _real _time alone since they had said they loved each other; every moment Logan had been barely a room away. From the airport to the plane, there'd always been people. Even during the car ride in their rented car on the way here, there'd been people on the road, they had _never _felt alone for even a moment.

Until now.

Looking around the room, then at the view behind her, Rogue suddenly realised just how secluded they were, and how intimate it really was. He'd planned it to be that way, there weren't going to be interruptions, there was no one to disrupt their time together. It was him and her...no one else. And it felt completely awkward.

For that moment, she'd _wished_ to go back to Bayville just for the company...for the intrusions. It was something they'd always had to face at the LeBeau house...Jean-Luc being there, or Henri...or his 'guests'...when they weren't at the house, they were always going somewhere, doing something, rarely ever alone _together. _It was like Vegas all over again, it was like starting at the beginning of their rather odd journey together...the tension of having to _be_ in a room designed mainly for romance alone with none other than Mr. Romance himself.

"C'mon...what y' standin' there all by your lonesome for?" he said, voice sweet and thick like molasses, eyelids heavy, a slightly knowing smile on his face. "Ain't got cooties, y' know."

She pushed herself away from the wall slowly and came to join him on the bed, she sat upon the furthest edge to try and give some distance between them; however, trying to sit right on the edge caused her to nearly slip because the sheets _were_ definitely slippery. She hated the hot burning embarrassment that reddened her cheeks as he laughed a little at her. A second attempt, she climbed onto the bed a little more and sat on one leg, looking down at him in his comfortable lounging position.

A strange thought crossed her mind; if they had been a normal couple, right now they'd have been making love right there on the bed. Or at least _making out_. As it was, they weren't a normal couple...in fact, they weren't even technically _a couple_. Or were they? It was hard to define what _this _was exactly.

"What?" he asked; he noted the expression on her face, his eyes locked with hers.

"Nothin'," she replied, she tucked her hair behind her ear and looked around the room; the walls were all stark white, but somehow didn't seem stark at all with the right décor, the right furniture, the right view. There were large pillar candles on each night stand, on the dresser directly opposite from the bed; she'd even noted candles in the bathroom and on the balcony too.

"Y' have somethin' troublin' y'," he admitted.

"Was just thinkin'...this is so...different...y'know..." she gestured around the room. "Compared to your house I mean."

Remy groaned, "do we got t' talk about that place?"

"I just mean...this is all so...weird..."

"Weird? I think it's exquisite," he glanced around briefly, his expression serene.

Rogue wasn't surprised he felt that way, he seemed to be the kind of boy who liked everything decadent and extravagant. Remy was a man who liked to indulge in everything, and she should have realised when he'd made his bookings (he must have spent _hours_ at that iPhone planning) that this was what they would have been coming to. Extravagance and beauty to make up for the horrors and the ugliness he'd grown up with. It might mask them, but it would never make them disappear from his memories and the thought of it all would _never _make it disappear from hers.

"You don't like all this?" he asked, almost disappointedly.

"Yeah, it's nice," she shrugged.

"Just nice, huh?" his expression looked hurt, but his lips struggled to refrain from smirking.

"It's lovely, Remy."

"Don't y' ever let y'self enjoy _anythin',_ chere?" he asked with a slightly frustrated sigh.

"I'm enjoying it," she replied calmly. "Ah'm just not _used_ to this. Even my room in the _mansion_ is ordinary..."

"Yeah I saw," Remy replied. "Nothin' wrong with a little luxury though. We've had a hard few weeks, we deserve this."

Rogue supposed he was right, but it was he who more so deserved it than she did, she was almost certain she'd enjoy watching _him _enjoy it more. She hoped at least it _was _distracting him as much as it seemed to be. He needed distracting.

"So...what y' wan' do?" He asked. He was normally so twitchy, always tapping fingers, shifting about from foot to foot, moving around, that it surprised Rogue he was so...calm, so relaxed right now. It was almost briefly reassuring.

"Ah dunno...what would you _suggest_?" she queried, trying to get herself out of her sombre thoughts.

"Sunbathin'...look at y' skin...it's whiter than _these walls_."

"Ah don't really tan," she shrugged, "Ah've always been this colour."

"Is it the lack of sunlight, or is it just your skin? I've always wondered," he confessed, he reached across and ran his finger across the thin mesh of her sleeve.

She pulled her arm back nervously and rubbed it almost as if his touch had burned her. Perhaps psychologically it _had._ "Ah don't know..." she answered.

He seemed slightly troubled by her recoiling so quickly, but he composed himself, "Never been sunburned?"

"Don't think so," she responded, "When...Ah was a kid, Irene always told me to take care of my skin...wear the highest factor sunscreen Ah can..." she explained, "she always got scared Ah'd end up with skin cancer."

"No sunbathin' then?" he asked.

"Can try," she answered.

"Y' bring a bikini?" he asked, Rogue didn't miss the sound of hopefulness in his voice.

"T-shirt and jeans is about it," she responded.

"That's a no then..."

"Ah'm not a beach kinda person," she shrugged.

"So no swimsuit?"

"No."

He gave a laugh, "Y' so predictable, y' know."

"Huh?"

"C'mon, we're on _vacation._ Show some goddamn _skin_."

"Ah have to be _careful. _You _know _that."

"Not here y' don't. I took every precatution for y'. We have this whole _beach_ t' ourselves. No one gon' be at risk, so lighten up..." he got up from the bed and moved over to where he'd left the bag that had come with the shirt he'd bought at the gift shop. "Here...you're so g'damn predictable I knew this would come in handy," he tossed it at her playfully.

Rogue raised an eyebrow and caught it; there was still something inside. Curiously, she opened the bag and glanced inside; a brand new black bikini.

"There's _two_ bottoms in there...I wasn't sure which ones y' generally wear...the full type or the thong...so I picked the both..." he commented, "Please let it be the thong..."

"Ah can't wear this...what about _you? You'd_ be at _risk_."

"I can keep my distance," he assured. "I'll just have t' _admire_ y' from afar. Please wear the thong."

Rogue gave a vague uncomfortable laugh. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of him admiring her in any sense and _especially _not in a thong.

"Go on...try it on..." he suggested.

_It's a vacation...we have a private beach, it should be fine right? I mean...he's...seen more of me than this bikini is probably gonna show. I should try to just go with it, right? Skin to him is nothing new...he's seen more strippers than I've had hot dinners._

She gazed down at the bikini in her hands. Although she felt insecure about her body and the danger of her powers, logic told her that there was nothing to worry about here.

Finally, she decided to play along, especially if it was going to make him happy. If he was capable of playing the part that everything was fine, she should make the effort to try to do the same. "Yeah, okay, leave the room then."

"Peep show?" he asked hopefully.

"How about I take that letter opener over there and make your right plum match your left?"

"Kinky," he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Out."

"What if I just turn my back?"

"You think I don't see the mirror there?" she frowned.

"I've _already_ seen you naked. Twice. Aren't we over this yet?"

"NO!"

"Okay, okay. I guess I'll go on ahead," he retrieved the other bag from the gift shop, the one he'd brought containing the new towels and lotions. "I'll see y' on the beach..."

"Okay..."

"And chere?" he stopped at the door.

"Hmm?"

"Wear the thong."

"Get out!"

Remy darted out of the room, she heard his almost goofy laughter. She waited for a moment, moving to gaze out of the window as he walked down towards the beach. "The things Ah do for you, Remy LeBeau," she muttered. "The things Ah do."

The water felt good as it lapped around Remy LeBeau's bare feet as he wandered across the beach enjoying the rippling of the water as the slow waves came in to meet the shore. He glanced up to the villa slightly up the hill just off the beach and wondered how long it could _take_ a woman to get into a bikini. He'd been down here twenty minutes now and she still hadn't joined him yet.

His eyes swept over the blue-green water and he felt at peace for the first time in what felt like his whole life. He was free of home, he didn't have to tolerate his brother any more, and he was far away from the prying eyes of his old town. The cherry on the sundae, of course was that he was on a stunning beach sharing a vacation with the girl he loved. What could be better?

_What could be better? _He wondered. _Maybe if she'd stop bringin' up this damn annulment thing,_ he decided.

"This thing is too darn tight."

He turned around, his eyes falling on the scarily pale figure of Rogue. She was long and lean, and looked somewhat thinner than she had two weeks ago – he supposed stress and lack of eating right had done that to her. And yet, for as thin as she was the black bikini _did_ seem to be digging in slightly to her bust and her hips. It didn't look _bad_ though...weren't they _meant_ to to be held firmly in place like that?

"I like it...suits you," he admitted as he admired from where he stood. He made a mental note to take her out for many high calorie fattening meals...he wanted to be _sure _she was well taken care of now that they were married.

Marriage...such an odd word to still be thinking of. Marry, married, marrying, marriage...all words he would need to start refraining from using. They didn't plan on telling Rogue's friends in Bayville about their marriage...that had been Logan's command. Only Logan _and_ the Professor apparently knew about this strange union, and they _had_ been warned upon returning to Bayville, they were going to get an annulment whether they liked it or not.

Remy couldn't help but feel slightly bothered that Rogue hadn't even _argued_ the point with Logan. What did it _matter_ if they remained married? They were legally adults, although she still had a year of high school to contend with (her final year thanks to a lot of school she'd missed), and no harm could really come with remaining married anyway, could it?

Rogue folded her arms over her exposed stomach, "I feel gross."

"You look great."

"Ah don't have the body for a bikini."

"Could have fooled me," Remy replied, raising an eyebrow, his eyes falling on the fantastic way her breasts pressed together. He was thankful he'd been able to slightly underestimate the top size, it made the view _much _more interesting than this spectacular beach. "Y' wanna swim?" he asked.

"Nah, not in the mood to get soaked right now..."

Remy came to approach her, making note to keep at least five feet away from her at all times, "lets walk then," he offered, she gave a vague shrug of agreement, and off they went.

Together, they sauntered down the beach, quiet, reflective, as the water lapped gently at the sand, erasing their footprints; there didn't seem to be other sounds for miles and the silence was reassuring. Rogue walked with her arms folded across her chest, he could tell just by her insecure posture, the way she hunched her back, tried to hide herself from him that she was ashamed of how she looked.

"Y' look fine, y'know," he admitted a good ten minutes later.

"Ah'm not used to goin' _out_ lookin' like this," she sighed. "It...feels weird."

"Looks great," he assured. "I didn't realise y' were so...buff..."

Her stopped and turned to him, eyes raised to him, "Buff?"

"Yeah...toned thighs, toned abs...I never really had th' chance t' have a _good _look b'fore but...damn, y' been holdin' out on me...y' should show it off more."

"Ah _can't._ My skin is poison...Ah could _kill_ someone."

"You keep lookin' like that, chere, kill me _all _you damn want."

"That ain't funny," her brows furrowed.

"I'm kiddin'...look, it's just us here," he reminded. "While we're here alone y' can dress however y' want...can go around naked if y' want," he teased.

Rogue frowned, "You wish."

"Yes. I do. I _really_ do."

Her eyes fell to the ground; she dug her toes in to the sand.

Her insecurities and her innocence made his heart swell in ways that nothing else on God's green Earth ever could. The kind of shyness she had usually frustrated him with other woman, but with Rogue, he somehow found it more endearing and oddly reassuring.

"I'm kiddin'..." he murmured softly as he unbuttoned his shirt, slipped it off and wrapped it around her shoulders, "here..." he smiled.

She chewed her lip, her cheeks turning pink at the gesture of him giving his shirt to her to cover her bare torso. "Look, even if Ah _wasn't_ a mutant..." she began as she let him fix the collar around her neck. "Ah _still_ wouldn't be comfortable walkin' around in a bikini..."

"Why not?"

"'Cause Ah'm not like the girls like Tabitha and Jean...they're so...confident, y'know? They can wear anythin' they want and feel _good_ and _look_ good wearin' it. Ah've just never been like that."

"Y' used to be. Y' used to wear all these cute little see through tops with the belly tops beneath...seems t' me y' felt confident wearin' that," he shrugged.

"Ah wore that to beat the _heat_."

"Was surprised y' could stand it back in Louisiana...y' were wearin' _hoodies_ in the goddamn height of summer...musta been killin' y'."

"Ah was hot..." she shrugged. "But Ah had to be careful in case Ah hurt you or someone else..."

"Y' not gon' hurt anyone out here..." he promised, he slung his arm over her shoulders. "Y' gon' have no trouble with that here at all. You got nothin' to worry about here except your tan..." he grinned. "Now c'mon, lets head back. Y' can get changed and we'll go into town for some supplies."

* * *

**End of Part One**

* * *

**Thanks to anyone who expressed interest in the sequel and asked for it, and thanks ahead of time to anyone who may review this. I hope it satisfied even if nothing interesting occurred, etc. Hope you all have a good week. :)**


	2. Part 2

**Trouble in St. Tropez**

**Part Two**

* * *

The restaurant they ended up in that night was one of the most charming Rogue had ever been to in the eighteen years she'd been on earth. An outdoor venue strung with gold twinkling fairy lights, tables decorated with candles and meals that looked more like works of art than actual _food._

What was more surprising about the place was the way that Remy was able to make _any _waiter believe he was the persona that he had created for himself. His French was impeccable as he ordered food, and if the waiters noticed _anything _odd about his accent, Rogue saw no sign of it. They fawned over him as if he were royalty, catered to every whim.

When Remy LeBeau clicked his fingers and ordered champagne, he _got _it, and when he told the waiters he was ready to order, he wasn't as dismissed as quickly as most of the other diners there (Rogue noted one couple had waited nearly twenty minutes just for their drinks to arrive when Remy was served almost immediately.

Of course, it didn't hurt that every time a waiter brought something, Remy was tipping with money as if it were going out of fashion.

He was in a good mood tonight, and Rogue chose not to mess with it although if she were fully honest with herself...she didn't trust it either. He was acting with her as much as he was acting with the waiters...it was all make believe, Rogue decided.

She wished she had it in her to _press _the subject too, but popping the bubble would seem like an act of cruelty at this stage. If he wanted to pretend everything was fine, then what was the harm? Who was he really hurting?

"The last time I came to this place," Remy said to her after sipping from his glass of expensive champagne, "I accidentally set fire to the table cloth."

Rogue glanced down at the table cloth, which looked more expensive than the outfit she was wearing, "How did that happen?"

"I was tryin' to do this...stupid magic trick thing. Anyway, cut long story short...was a lil' drunk, knocked the candle over, it lit the table cloth up...but lemme show you..." he grinned, slurring his words a little. How many glasses had he had? She hadn't been counting, she'd been too busy devouring the lobster.

Rogue watched as he removed the small pillar candle from it's bulb shaped holder and he set it on his unused side plate, he grabbed a hold of her non-alcoholic cocktail, which was blue, and spilled a little onto the plate creating a blue-green sea around the walls of the candle.

"Y' see..." he said, "when you do this..." he took his empty water glass and tipped it upside down and put it over the candle, "this happens."

Rogue watched as the blue-green liquid began to rise up the sides of the glass. It wasn't all that impressive, really but he seemed quite pleased with himself.

"See? Magic."

"Science, actually," Rogue corrected, "the candle goin' out makes the glass turn into a vacuum."

He pouted, "let me have my damn magic trick."

"That's your best magic trick?" Rogue asked, she sipped her drink.

"Outside of the bedroom?" he teased.

She kicked him under the table, he winced.

"Okay, okay," he paused a moment as if he were trying to think, "okay..." he reached into his pocket, "I don't normally do _card _tricks at a restaurant less I'm tryin' t' con someone int' buyin' me a free meal. Was always tol' it was _impolite _and _common _t' get them out but..." he pulled out his pack of cards and began shuffling expertly. Rogue watched for several moments mesmerised by how the cards moved quickly between his fingers, they moved as if he weren't even touching them, flying from hand to hand, twisting from finger to finger, he could make shapes happen with just a tiny fraction of movement and make cards appear and disappear within the blink of an eye.

Rogue glanced around her, she could feel the eyes of some of the other diners watching, she felt her cheeks go pink with slight embarrassment, Remy had gotten them noticed and it made her quite uneasy.

"Okay," he said, finally stopping shuffling, he glanced to the nearby couple, there was an empty wine bottle sitting on their table, he spoke in French to the woman to ask if he could have the empty bottle; she seemed confused but nodded enthusiastically.

Remy took the empty bottle, "okay..." he smirked, examining it for a moment. As the waiter came over to ask if there was anything else they needed, Remy asked if he could borrow the waiters pen.

Rogue raised an eyebrow.

"It's relevant, I promise," he told her, using his best French accent which he'd been doing since arriving here with the credit card under Jeremy LeNoir's name.

The waiter handed over a spare pen from his pocket and left, Remy passed it over to Rogue and put the deck down in front of her.

"Write somethin' on a card...any card," he instructed, "but be sure t' don't let me see it."

She took the pen feeling a little mystified, but she spread the deck out and chose a card, deliberately picking a card she was determined he would _never _predict her to choose. _Four of clubs. He'll be expectin' me to go for somethin' obvious like the queen of hearts, or the ace of spades. It should throw him, _she decided.

Rogue was almost certain he _also _expected her to write her name on the card so instead of writing on it, she drew a love heart, more of a squiggle than anything really. Something he wouldn't predict.

"Shuffle," he encouraged.

Rogue shuffled the deck poorly, then passed them back to him, watching him, waiting for whatever he _thought _he was going to pull off.

He held the deck up, showing her there was nothing odd about the deck, he raised the wine bottle, "Now...watch _this," _he said.

"Let me guess," she sighed, "the card is gonna turn up in the bottle, 'cause you folded it up and put it up your sleeve," she supposed.

"Y' think so?" he asked with a smirk, "jus' watch..." he tapped the deck against the bottom of the wine bottle three times sharply.

She wasn't sure _how _the hell it happened, but it wasn't the _card _that appeared in the bottle. It was a _phone. _

It was _her _phone. In the middle of a damn wine bottle, clinking against the glass, rattling around inside, sliding about as he moved it to show her.

Rogue stood up a little, "How...how did you?" she felt her pocket where she _knew _she had put the phone just before they had entered the restaurant. It had never for one moment _left _her pocket...at least she'd never taken it out.

"Check your pocket," he encouraged.

Nervously, she slipped her fingers into the pocket and pulled out something quite surprising. It was the card she'd picked. The Four of Clubs...

And the heart she'd drawn...the heart she _knew _with absolute certainty she had scribbled with that pen was right there around the club at the top corner.

Rogue stared at him speechlessly. A few of the nearby diners began clapping, Remy said something in French and gave a vague laugh and a bow, and put his deck of cards away.

Rogue picked up the bottle and turned it around in her hands, still mesmerised. "How the hell did you do that?"

"Magic," he replied grinning.

"Is this really _my _phone?"

"Sure is..."

"How did you do it?" Rogue asked.

"Ain't tellin'. Ruins the mystery. Mystery is part of the fun."

"So...how do Ah get my phone back?" She asked pointedly.

"Only one way I know how," he admitted, "which we shouldn't do 'til we're out of the restaurant."

"Smash the bottle?"

"Pretty much," he shrugged, he sipped his champagne, "did I impress y'?"

Rogue avoided answering the question, still turning the bottle around in awe. The phone _was _hers, through the clear glass of the chardonnay bottle, she could see the scratch on the back of the phone that had been caused catching on a stud on her jeans pockets when she'd first got it. "Ah knew you were able to do a few stupid card tricks, but Ah didn't think you had it in you to do this..."

"So I _impressed y'_?" he pushed, seeming eager to please.

Just to tease him, Rogue shrugged, "eh, Ah've seen a street magician do this on a TV show a few times, it's nothin' special."

"Nothin' _special?" _he gasped, "do y' _know _how hard that trick is to do?"

Rogue smirked.

"Now I know y' just teasin' me," he realised, rolling his eyes at himself.

"Okay, I'll admit it, it's kind of impressive," she finally gave in, "Where did you learn this?"

It seemed to be a question he hadn't anticipated, and for a moment he seemed strange lost before he finally spoke, "Me and my brother..."

Rogue _saw _him somehow inwardly wince, and he corrected himself quickly.

"Henri and I used to pull this trick out in the streets durin' Mardi Gras...I had the charm, y' know? I'd do the trick, get the crowds all distracted and all 'ooh' and 'ahh' meanwhile, he'd be pickin' pockets, stealin' jewellery, watches, purses...anythin' and everythin' that wasn't bein' paid attention to."

"That lucrative?" Rogue asked curiously, she could see the hurt in his face, she wished she'd tried to change the subject.

"Couple of thousand dollars a night dependin' on y' crowd. One night durin' a really good night, cleared about ten grand."

"Ten grand?" she gasped.

"A few guys were wearin' expensive watches...girl with a Tiffany bracelet, one guy was carryin' about an iPad in a bag and Henri plcked it right out. We fenced it all off to four different guys and we ended up with about ten grand the next day..."

Rogue watched the almost regretful look over his face, he lowered his eyes to the table, he sighed deeply, he seemed to set his jaw, a slight frown working its way briefly across his handsome face.

"It...was Jean-Luc."

Rogue watched his eyes, the hurt was there all right. He gave a deep sigh and continued.

"He teach me those tricks...bein' a Thief ain' just about bein' a cat burglar and pickin' a lock. It can be anythin' from short cons t' long cons, t' street performin' just t' keep up a distraction."

"Oh..." she said softly.

"If you like," he picked the deck back up and began shuffling some more, "I can show you lots more tricks...I could _teach _y' how t' do anythin' y' wanted wit' them."

Her eyes fell on his hands, they moved deftly, more impressively than before...but there was something oddly agitated about the way he was doing it, his expression dark and almost distressed.

"Jean-Luc's cards tricks used t' mesmerise me when I was young...coulda watched for hours...there was so much he taught me t' do."

She caught the sound of his voice right then, distracted, distant, his eyes may have been pointed towards her, but his mind was somewhere else far away.

Rogue reached over and stopped him, her hand gripping his tightly, the deck still within his grasp, "Ah don't need to see any more illusions," she said pointedly. She didn't need to know about the things Remy LeBeau had been taught to do.

Remy sighed and put the deck back in his pocket, "I guess you're right," he took his champagne glass and tipped the contents down his throat.

Worried that he may feel tempted to get drunk, she stared down at her lobster, which she hadn't completely finished, "Actually Ah think Ah'm pretty full...why don't we head on out...?"

"Ain't had dessert yet," Remy responded, "they do this amazin' chocolate souffle...I pre-ordered it for you."

"Why pre-order?" Rogue asked, feeling a little alarmed.

"Takes forty minutes," he picked up the champagne bottle from the bucket and poured himself another glass, "y' sure y' no' wanna have some this?"

"Someone has to drive," Rogue reminded.

"Could take a cab."

"Ah've heard it's an acquired taste, Remy, and...really, Ah'm fine with my fake cocktail," she forced a smile, watching as he sipped from the new glass. She wanted to tell him to not get drunk tonight, but how could she tell him on his _vacation?_ Wasn't that was vacations were about? Getting drunk and doing things you wouldn't normally do at home?

Remy picked at a little of her lobster, she was glad at least he was eating a lot, she'd been told that when one drank it was always helpful to eat a little to help absorb some of the alcohol; whether it was true or not, she couldn't say.

Their desserts finally came, and although she wasn't happy about Remy getting drunker (he'd had one glass from the second bottle of champagne that he'd ordered that she'd tried to insist he _not _order), the chocolate souffle had almost been _worth _the wait. She'd never tasted anything so light, delicate _nor _delicious in her life.

By the time they'd finished their desserts, Rogue could see Remy's eyes were quite glazed and distant; he was having trouble focusing to even read the bill and Rogue had to read it out for him, then work out the final tip so that he could pay. "This has been a good night," he slurred after having paid (extortionately) for their meal. He walked slowly, tiredly, almost stumbling down the stone steps of the restaurant down towards the parking lot.

He had the car keys but when he tried to take them out to unlock it, he kept hitting the wrong button, getting frustrated. He'd _tried _to open Rogue's car door for her, but in the end, she had to take it from him and open _his, _because he was finding it very hard to stay coordinated.

"You're a lightweight, you know," Rogue said, closing his door after him, she walked around the car and got in at the driver's side.

Remy let his elbow rest on the door and propped his cheek up on his hand, "tha' was v' po'ent cham'agne I'll have y' know," he commented tiredly, his eyes closing.

She glanced over to him, "Which side are we drivin' on here?"

"Left...no wait..." he opened his eyes and thought, "right?"

"Well, Ah guess we've narrowed it down to the _only two _sides there are," she rolled her eyes, she pulled his seatbelt on him, he hadn't even bothered which alarmed her just a little.

"Jus' pull out on t' the road...y' all figure it there."

Rogue decided he was right, as stupid as a reply as it sounded it made some vague sense. She dallied at the exit of the parking lot of the restaurant, waiting for the first car to appear before she turned out completely. Luckily, there was a satellite navigation system in the rental car, and she was able to roughly pinpoint which way she was meant to be going, until she got lost trying to get to the road the villa was on. Remy had dropped off to sleep in the passengers seat and she felt it best not to disturb him, deciding he'd probably be _very _little help in determining the location.

By the time she'd finally found the right road the villa was on and was parking in front, Remy was sleeping so deeply he was snoring, head tilted back against the seat, mouth hanging open.

"Great..." she muttered, removing the key from the ignition, "Remy!" she said loudly, "we're here..."

He stirred only a little, but continued to sleep. Frustrated, she got out of the car and walked around the car and opened his door, he _would _have fallen out had it not been for the seatbelt she'd pulled over him. She put her hand firmly against his shoulder and reached over to unclip the belt; she thought it momentarily amusing that he wasn't awake to _notice _her breast against his cheek as she did so.

_See what you miss, LeBeau? You get yourself so blind drunk you miss the only action you're probably gonna get this week, _she thought at him as she shook him hard.

It was a struggle to get him out; he awoke but just barely enough to function, tripping on the small staircase up to the large wooden door into the villa, almost fell over the banister waiting for her to unlock the door and finally _did _fall onto his knees on the way through the door.

"You're real undignified when you're drunk," she muttered.

"Di'nity's f' thems who earn it," Remy muttered in return, trying to get himself up. It was as if he had no power in his legs, he seemed to slip and flail a little. It might have amused her if she wasn't so concerned about him.

"Just go to bed," Rogue sighed.

Managing to hold himself up on one wall, he made his way to the second bedroom; Rogue had fully intended to go to her own room, but thought the better of it. Instead, she turned and followed him to his room, he hadn't even bothered to switch on the light.

She found the light switch and turned on the dim bedside lamps, looking at him as he sat there hunched over, trying to untie one of his shoes (which for the first time she realised were the _same _ones he'd worn to Jean-Luc's funeral). The shoe lace had knotted and he was frustratedly trying to remove it.

Rogue moved to her knees in front of him, "real undignified," she said again.

"Nev' said I ha' di'nity, chere," he responded, his voice thick, full of the weight of too much champagne, his expression sleepy from too much good food and a long day.

She took her gloves off and began trying to pick the laces apart, they were the kind that were waxy, hard to untie at all, the knots were far too tight.

"Such pretty lil' hands," he said with a smirk down at her.

Rogue threw a dangerous glance up towards him, "better leave the compliment _there _if you expect me to be here in the mornin'," she warned.

"Y' ev' won'er how it look? My hands, y' hands..." he slurred, "pale and...and not s' pale...small an' large...tangled up...sweaty and hot."

She dropped her eyes to the knot, it was frustratingly refusing to come undone. Her cheeks grew hot at his words, her heart thudded a little in her chest.

"I bet y' got the ligh'est touch...like y' touch a man and he _barely _feel it...like brush o' a feather..." he breathed near her, she felt it brush her hair, his breath was alcoholic and slightly sweet. "Skin like rose petals...silky...soft...pristine and perfect..." he brushed his hand lightly over her shoulder, almost _suggestively._

Rogue pushed his wrist away awkwardly with her sleeved arm, "don't, Remy, Ah'm tryin' to get this shoe untied..."

"Fuck th' _shoes,"_ he murmured, "c' mon up here..." he patted the space on the bed beside him.

She shook her head, "No."

"W' not?" he asked with a frustrated sigh.

"You're drunk."

"I'm per'ectly able t' think straigh'," he beamed.

"You _sure _can't _talk_ it," Rogue pointed out, she gave the shoe a hard tug, deciding he could get the knots out himself when he awoke. For now, it seemed vital to just get him settled before he kept up this talk.

"Maybe tha's jus' the _effect_ y' have on me," he grinned cheekily at her, he nudged her ankle with his socked toe.

"The effect Ah'm gonna have on _you _if you don't behave," Rogue warned, "is Ah'm gonna _knock you out," _she tugged the other shoe off and tossed it aside, she leaned up and pushed his black suit jacket down his shoulders. It seemed strange how different the jacket looked with a different (more colourful) shirt beneath. The whole outfit had looked different, or perhaps it had just been Remy's _demeanour _that had changed the entire outfit.

"Oh, so y' like t' play a lil' rough then?" he teased.

"Hush," Rogue commented, taking the jacket and going to hang it up.

"Y' gon' undress me _alllll _the way?" he asked, "or shoul' I help get things rollin'?"

She gazed down at him, his drunkenness aside, she couldn't help but be slightly amused. She suppressed a smile, she didn't _want _to find this funny. It was awkward, and very embarrassing. "The only thing you should be focused on is gettin' some sleep."

"I sleep best after I get laid y'know..."

Rogue tried not to let the comment hurt her, she was certain it was the alcohol speaking for him, the alcohol leaving him not thinking as clearly as he _might _have been. "And how you expect that to happen with a girl who can't touch people?" she folded her arms and stood looking down at him.

"Real...real...carefully..." he said hotly, pressed his tongue against his bottom lip and looked up at her.

"You're drunk, go to sleep," she moved over and pushed his shoulders down towards the bed.

"Mus' be gettin' to you too..." he tried, leaning back against the pillows, "roman'ic settin'...big bed..." he hooked two fingers into the small belt around her black pants and tugged her closer, "could ligh' candles...get a lil' music..."

"You'd be _passed out _before Ah got the second _candle _lit, sugar," Rogue smirked.

"Then le's skip straigh' t' sex," he suggested, he took his fingers from her belt and danced them down her stomach, she flinched away before they could get any closer to the area between her legs.

"Go to sleep, Remy," she commanded, heading for the door.

Remy leaned up a little, "where y' goin'?" he asked sadly.

"Where?" she rolled her eyes, "to find _you _a puke bucket. Ah've got the feelin' you might need one. Or...if you give me any more of this romantic lets screw around crap, _Ah _might need it. It's makin' me sick," she made a face at him, and with that, she left the room, shaking her head at him and _hoping _that would be the end of it.

* * *

**End of Part Two**

* * *

**A Short update, but an update nonetheless. Hope you're all enjoying this and I'm thankful for all the reviews that came in for the first part. I'm glad some are happy that the story is finally online. Hope you all have a good week. :)**


	3. Part 3

**Trouble in St. Tropez**

**Part Three**

* * *

Remy awoke that next morning at ten am with a thumping headache; it took several moments to register where he was; the beige painted room was unfamiliar, the Egyptian cotton sheets tangled around his pants legs weren't all that familiar either, and none of the furniture he could remember ever having looked at before.

He rubbed his head and turned onto his back, gazing up at the ceiling fan which was spinning, a slight unbalance left it thumping softly every four seconds and it hurt his head despite the cool air it helped provide was soothing. He sat up slowly, sweeping his slightly sweaty hair from his brow; everything came back to him, from the vacation to the restaurant (at least parts of it). It was fuzzy exactly what had happened between the restaurant and getting there.

After staggering to the bathroom and unloading his (ridiculously) full bladder, he left the bedroom feeling feeling quite dehydrated. In the living room of the villa, the television was on – and it was blaring, a French movie was on and Rogue was stretched out on the couch in her pyjamas watching it, although he could tell by the confused look on her face she didn't understand _any _of the dialogue even though he was certain she'd taken French at school.

"Oh, you're up," she raised her eyes and took her legs down from the couch. "You slept in your clothes..."

Remy glanced down at himself, realising this, he sighed. "Guess so. Time is it?" he asked groggily. "Jesus...that's loud..."

"Ah don't know...ten Ah think?" she quickly muted the television, a welcome relief to Remy's thumping head.

"What time we get back from the restaurant?" he asked, rubbing his head.

"Maybe eleven?" she asked, "Ah don't know...it was late, we got lost on the road," she explained, she was looking at him in a strangely expectant way, he wasn't sure exactly why.

"I don't remember that," he sighed, dropping onto the couch, still rubbing his forehead, he yawned a little.

"You don't?" she asked, a strange look crossed her face, "You don't _remember _us gettin' home at _all?_"

He stared at her, trying to read her face, he was having a hard time focusing well with the headache gnawing at him like a hungry vulture at a fresh carcass. "No...it's a bit of a blur. There's like a jump 'tween dinner and now. Guess all the travellin' and jetlag got me more than I thought it would."

"Yeah...champagne had nothin' to do with that, right?" she said sounding flat and tired.

"Okay, maybe it did, but exhaustion can make it hit harder, y' know..." he tried with a shrug.

"Okay," she replied, sounding weirdly unsure as she got up slowly and made her way towards the small kitchen in the far corner; she retrieved the coffee from the cabinet. Yesterday before they'd went to the restaurant they had gone grocery shopping to pick up some essentials for the week. Coffee had definitely been priority on that list.

Remy was troubled by the way she had seemed when she'd gotten up so quickly. He sat there for a minute rubbing his head, watching her as she went about filling the coffee machine and turning it on.

When a few moments had passed and she had said _nothing else _to him at all, he got up slowly, approached and moved up behind her, sliding his hands gently down her hips, "You okay?" he asked.

She gave something of a frustrated sigh and shrugged, she didn't seem to know if she was or not. That troubled him.

"Chere?" he asked; he caught the look on her face reflected in the microwave on the shelf above the coffee machine. She was troubled, it was painted on her face like a mask.

Without explanation, she brushed his hands away from her and went to cut a few slices from the loaf of bread she had chosen yesterday.

"Rogue..." he cleared his throat, "Is...everythin' okay?" he came to stand beside her and examined her closely.

Her expression was deep and thoughtful, her jaw was set for a moment or so. "Remy..." she sighed, "Ah need to know somethin' and Ah need to know the honest truth _before _we continue with any of this vacation..."

"Okay," he agreed, his head banging, he felt as if he could do without interrogation for the day.

She hesitated, her expression conflicted before she spoke, "Do...you expect anythin' out of this vacation?"

"Do...I...expect...?" he asked groggily.

"The stuff that _married _people do, Remy."

His heart sank a little, it seemed to suck all the romance, possibility, mystery and unpredictability of everything right out of the entire vacation. He took a little step back, gazing at her curiously wondering why this was being brought up now. He drew in a breath and tried to think of the most diplomatic way to answer.

Rogue turned towards him slowly, she propped herself against the counter with one hand and stood looking at him with such seriousness. He could see it troubled her and he couldn't fathom why it had suddenly become an issue.

He breathed in deeply, trying to ignore his thumping head, trying to think clearly about the best way to approach this, "I..." he let his back rest against the island counter at his back, "I..." he tried again.

"Come on, Remy, admit it...you _expect _somethin' to happen..." she frowned at him.

"What makes y' think I _expect _anythin'?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Everythin' about this trip...you planned it so meticulously, Remy..." she admitted, her eyes full of hurt and suspicion, "a private villa, so far from _anywhere _else...private beach. King sized bed, satin sheets, candles in every room...the bathroom has a jacuzzi. There's complimentary wine in the cabinet...Ah saw _massage _oils in the bathroom..."

"Oh," he said, "that."

"Tell me you _don't _expect _somethin' _to happen."

"I didn't expect anythin' to happen," he sighed as he rubbed his head still, why did she have to pick an argument when he was feeling this hungover? Was this one of her hobbies?

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Jesus, does everythin' have to have an ulterior motive with you?" he grumbled, "I rented a _private _villa because we're mutants. I wanted us to have _privacy _so we didn't have to _hide _ourselves from everyone...especially _you._ I thought you'd feel _safer, _less stressed out with so much space. Everythin' else this place has, okay, so I got the best. So what? I _always _get the best when I get a hotel or a villa...I get every feature I _can _if I got the money for it. What's wrong with luxury? What's so bad about sleepin' in satin sheets and feelin' cool and comfortable on a big ass bed? I thought you'd _appreciate _it after the rough sleepin' conditions of sharin' a single bed back home..." he had to refrain from snapping. "So what if I _meticulously _planned a nice vacation. I thought you _deserved _it."

Rogue looked away, he could see the doubt beginning to twist her features. He wasn't sure who she doubted more, him or her own assumptions.

"Sex had nothin' to do wit' any of this..." he forced a smile although right now he felt nowhere near smiling. "We're just here t' hang out...have fun. No pressure..."

His promise aside, Rogue was still preoccupied with something, but whatever it was, she was holding onto it, clutching it tightly in her thoughts away from his prying curiosity. He tried to shake the feeling off that something was wrong. She'd been acting strange ever since they had gotten to the villa.

_She's jus' insecure about all this...it's different here. She ain't used to bein' alone with men. Playin' sex noises and her grabbin' my johnson back home was about as close as she's ever been. I guess maybe the best thing t' do right now would be t' get her out of the villa...where people are. No pressure then, maybe then she won' be so suspicious._

"What you feel like doin' today?" he asked, hoping to drop the subject completely; there was a heaviness still lingering there between them, tension that was almost palpable, but most of it he felt was coming from _her._

Slipping two slices of the bread into the toaster, she gave a slight shrug, "Ah don't know...what's there to do?"

"You feel like goin' out?" he asked; he hoped she did. He was convinced it was the only thing that was going to lift this tension.

_What about tonight though, when we come home together? It's going to be awkward then._

"Yeah, maybe," she gave a nod, pushing the lever on the toaster down; she turned her attention back to the coffee maker. "What's there to do around here?"

"You didn' look at the brochure?"

"No," Rogue replied.

"Okay, well..." he leaned against the counter casually, trying to think of activities, "could hire a boat?" he asked. He realised she was going to immediately reject the idea, but at least it gave him time to think of other ideas.

"No..." Rogue shook her head, "Bad idea if you're hungover...last thing I want to see is you yakking and gettin' all seasick."

"I guess you're right," he tutted trying to think, "L'Annonciade...if you like that sort of thing," he suggested.

Rogue chewed the inside of her cheek, "What's that?"

"Museum...if you wan' t' see some Matisse paintin's in person."

"Pass," Rogue wrinkled her nose.

"Chateau des Marres," he shrugged.

"Which is? What? Some kind of castle?" she moved to get the butter out of the small fridge in the kitchen.

"A vineyard," he replied, "they make some pretty nice wines, I sampled some while I was here the las' time."

Her expression shifted, she was definitely troubled and uneasy; she dismissed the idea quickly, something about going somewhere like this didn't sit well. What was it about these places? Too pretentious for her tastes? Vineyards and art museums weren't her thing.

"Somethin' else," she said.

Remy watched as she buttered the toast that popped up, "Look, I'm throwin' ideas out here, chere, but you ain' offerin' anythin' back. This is your vacation too...what do _you _feel like doin'?"

Rogue took a moment, "Ah don't know, Ah don't know what Ah feel like doin'."

"That's helpful," he rolled his eyes. "Come on, so far you've given me _no _feedback or suggestions."

She went about buttering the toast, "Fine...how about gettin' somethin' sweet...pastry or somethin'? France is famous for it's pastry and cakes, right?"

"Okay," he agreed, "how about a walk down the waterfront, then?" he asked, "some very nice cafes an' restaurants there. And I could really use a nice strong espresso right now."

"Waterfront it is. You sure you're up for it?" she put the toast onto a plate and handed it to him. "You look pretty rough."

"I've gotten up and walked away from worse," he supposed. Remy wasn't sure he could even stomach the toast right now but he supposed he should try to appease her. "Aw, look at that, a home cooked meal and everythin'," he gazed down at the plate.

"Eat...Ah've heard toast is great when you're hungover."

"I've heard that's just a myth," he sat at the counter.

"No, it's scientific or somethin'," she leaned opposite him, "somethin' to do with blood sugar levels...carbs can bring them back up, help you feel less tired and cranky."

Remy wasn't sure he really believed that about toast, but he supposed it fit with the old dry crackers hangover cure myth too. He picked up a slice and bit into it, eyeing her across the island counter. She looked beautiful in the morning, slightly tired and puffy-eyed but innocent; it was so much easier to read her expressions when her face wasn't thick with makeup, he'd grown to love that a lot since they'd married.

"You look cute firs' thing in the mornin', y' know," he admitted after swallowing his mouthful.

Her cheeks grew pink and she moved away swiftly from the counter to pour him coffee, "shut up."

_Still can't take a compliment,_ he realised, he rolled his eyes at her but said nothing. He wasn't in the mood for an argument.

"Drink this," Rogue put the mug down in front of him, "Ah'm gonna go shower and change while you have breakfast."

"Honour and obey," he teased with a wink, trying to ignore his pounding head as he threw a dazzling smile towards her (it hurt his head to even smile), watching as she left to go to the master bedroom. When she'd finally gone, he sighed a little, everything on the surface was fine for now and that was enough to keep him happy.

At least for this moment.

* * *

Rogue felt strangely foolish about bringing up the question of Remy's motives during this vacation; she hadn't been able to help herself, there had been a thick tension in the air, tightening around her. The question burning on her lips had been actually been was _he_ all right? Something wasn't sitting right and she could _feel _it hanging between them. But she'd been unable to ask it, because she'd been afraid of what he might say, afraid of what might be dredged up. Afraid she may _ruin _the entire vacation for him with one question.

Instead, the _other _question that had been burning on her lips had popped into her head and blurted out before she'd properly had a chance to consider the consequences or the tension it may cause. She'd been thinking of it all last night after his poor attempt at drunkenly seducing her.

_Ah had to ask it, Ah had to establish what was what here, _she tried to justify it. _Ah couldn't just back out of sayin' Ah had to ask him somethin'. Besides, at least now Ah know what's what...and so does he._

As she showered, she sighed more than once to herself realising that judging by Remy's reaction to her question, he either _didn't _remember the foolish things he'd said the night before or he was _pretending _to be completely innocent. Both left her feeling uneasy. She tried to push these thoughts aside; this was a vacation, she wasn't meant to be dwelling on unhappy things, she was meant to be putting on a smile and making it a good time for him.

_Perhaps Ah should have indulged him, _she thought, almost regretting thinking that way about it. _Maybe Ah should just try to make him happy...try to keep him from thinkin' about bad things. Not that it looks like he'd have remembered anyway._

While she was getting dressed following her brief shower, her phone began to ring; she picked up and stared at the caller identification. It was Logan.

She was reluctant about answering because she was almost certain he'd pick up the tone in her voice; he always seemed to be able to detect just the subtlest change in tone when someone was upset, he never missed a trick. She didn't want to talk about any of this right now.

Still, she had to answer; if she didn't, he'd become concerned and probably fly all the way out to make _sure _she was all right.

Sighing to herself, trying to force out all the negativity out of her tone in one long exhale, she sat on the edge of the bed, clad in her underwear and selected the answer button, "Hi," she said, feigning the brightest happiest tone she could.

"_You were supposed to call me when you landed_," Logan replied to her on the other end immediately, sounding slightly hostile, "_I tried calling yesterday...why didn't you answer_?"

Rogue thought about this, she couldn't remember a single instance that her phone had rang at all yesterday, "Ah didn't know Ah'd missed any calls...Ah never heard it ring once," she confessed. Perhaps Logan had dialled a wrong number?

_No...he'd use the speed dial on his phone...or the mansion's phone. He'd never dial the number direct. There's no way he'd get that wrong._

Rogue wasn't sure how these calls had been directed or where they had gone but she definitely _hadn't _missed any calls as far as she was aware. "Maybe Ah lost the signal at some point," she supposed, "Sometimes text messages get lost in limbo for _days,_" she reminded. "Tomorrow Ah bet suddenly Ah'll have a bunch of missed calls from you showin' up on the phone."

"Maybe," he agreed, sounding slightly less irritated now. "_How's the vacation?" _he asked, his tone quite serious.

"It's fine. We've been here a day, we didn't do a lot yesterday, we settled, spent some time on the beach, got groceries, watched a little television – which by the way is in _French – _and then we went for dinner...it's a beautiful place."

"_That's not what I meant, Rogue."_

Rogue paused, "what did you mean...?" she asked, trying to sound innocent.

"_How _is _he?"_

Rogue had to refrain from admitting to Logan that Remy was hungover, that he had been incredibly drunk, that he had propositioned her the night before. It would only make matters worse; she was certain Logan would arrive in St. Tropez before the sun was down if any of _this _was confessed. She couldn't afford a _moment _of hesitance and she quickly answered as best she could, "he's same old Remy. Showin' off and spendin' money like a drunken sailor on shore leave."

_Perhaps Ah should have worded that different, _Rogue realised regretfully, she waited to see if Logan would pick up on it.

"_No bad behaviour_?"

"He's great. Behavin' superbly. He's really happy here actually...he seems to really like it here."

"_I see..._" Logan took a moment, "_Rogue...after what happened back in Louisiana...you know not to trust that, right?_"

Rogue sighed inwardly, she stared at herself in the mirror opposite the bed, even in her eyes she saw the frustration the conversation was causing, "Ah'm not an idiot..."

"_I never accused you of bein' one either, kid. I know you're smart. I just want to be sure you're vigilant...that you know what to expect."_

"Ah know when he's stressed and Ah know when he's not, right now he's fine."

_"Right now. But don't take for granted that because he looks and _acts _happy that he _is. _He's goin' through a big deal. I shouldn't have let you go there with him..."_

"You _had _to. What, let him go here by himself after everythin'?" Rogue asked in a hushed voice.

"_No. Not let him go by himself. We should have insisted he come back here, not go off galavantin' to France."_

_"_What good would that have done right now?"

"_Professor thinks he'll need some kind of help...grief counsellin', someone to talk to about what happened."_

_"_He can talk to me," Rogue tried.

"_No...you don't understand. He _can't _talk to you about certain things, Rogue. And there are things about him that you won't _want _to know. He needs to be here where he can be looked after."_

"He _needs _this. And right now, so do _Ah._ Ah know how to take care of him-"

"_Yeah, I thought that, and came to find you with a broken nose and a bruised up face thanks to his tirades," _Logan remarked.

"That was an accident," Rogue reminded carefully.

"_More accidents are liable to happen when someone is under that kind of stress. Maybe I should come out there."_

_ "_No," Rogue responded quickly. She could almost imagine Remy's reaction. He _wouldn't _be happy with her if she allowed that. "We're fine, just...don't come out here, okay? We're both adults, we can take care of ourselves."

_"First whiff of anythin' goin' wrong down there, Rogue...and I'm on it. Cerebro will be able to catch the first instance either of you use your powers for any reason and if it comes to that, I _won't _be hangin' around waitin' for the phone call for you to make excuses."_

_ "_Fine," Rogue said, she hoped it wasn't going to come to that. She'd have to be sure to mention to Remy that he had to be sure not to use his powers.

"_I gotta go. _Call _me if anythin' goes wrong or..."_

"What's gonna go wrong?" she asked, trying to sound upbeat as she gazed at the door wondering what Remy's mentality was _really _like right now.

_ "Who knows. Just...keep your guard up. And if you just need to ask what to do at _any _time, I'm here...any time of night, it don't matter."_

Rogue tried not to sigh at his over-protectiveness. "Ah know. Thanks," she said softly, and with that, hung up the phone.

The door swung open and Remy stood there looking down at her, "Were y' talkin' to me just now—oh..." he stopped, gazing down at her in her mismatched underwear and striped socks, his expression grew soft and distant for a moment.

"Remy," she gasped, grabbing for the satin sheet on the unmade bed and pulling it around herself, the phone dropped to the floor and Remy's eyes followed it.

"Who were you on the phone to?" he asked, his expression slightly concerned.

"Logan."

"Were y' callin' him about me?" he asked, his expression serious and almost hurt.

"No. He just called to ask how the vacation was goin'. He still likes to check in...make sure I'm okay..." she replied, holding the sheet tightly against her chest, "can you please just let me get dressed?"

"Stop bein' so un'er the thumb wit' him," Remy said after a moment, "you're my wife...not his."

Rogue sighed, "Ah'm nobodies wife..."

Every time she failed to acknowledge the marriage, she saw his expression drop more and more. She hated putting that look on his face, but it felt so necessary.

Pushing the thought out of her head, she gazed up at him sternly, "Can you let me get dressed?"

"Ain' stoppin' you," he replied.

"_Alone," _she insisted.

"Are we still playin' this game?" he asked, "I saw all there was t' see when y' were high off y' ass on _E _and dancin' in the rain. "

Her cheeks burned at the thought of that, she had distinct memories of it, but couldn't relate any _shame _to it. At least not until the next _morning._

Remy continued, "Nothin' y' got gon' shock me anymore. I've seen too much."

Rogue's stomach churned at the thought of that. Was there more to that comment? She thought of what Logan had said about there being things Remy wouldn't be able to tell her...things she wouldn't want to know and her blood ran slightly cold.

"Just go and let me get dressed already. Go finish your coffee...and get ready."

Remy left the room shutting the door behind himself, his expression dark and slightly displeased. Rogue wished he would get past this jealousy with Logan, she didn't understand it at all, especially since Logan was so much older and she had never given any indication there _could _be an ounce of romantic feeling for him in her.

Even if she admitted the thought of Logan in _that _way repulsed her to some degree, she was certain Remy would never accept that. Remy had this idea in his head and it seemed cemented there.

She bent down to pick her phone up and sat there for a moment looking at it, still holding on to her sheet insecurely. She glanced to the closed door and whispered, "Ah wonder..." to herself.

Hastily, she went through her phone's call log, and to her surprise she found four missed incoming calls since yesterday, all from Logan's phone, all during the hours she _would _have been at dinner.

_Why didn't Ah feel it go off in my pocket? Why didn't Ah hear it?_ She pondered.

And then it struck her immediately there was only one reason for that. She hadn't had her phone...because Remy _had. _He'd set that trick up...he'd put it in the bottle somehow, he'd had to have taken her phone ahead of time to prepare that trick. He'd let those calls go unanswered, perhaps put the phone on silent so they could be missed then dismissed the notifications so she'd never know. Only he had _stupidly _not cleared the call log afterwards.

Was Remy _that _devious? Was this inadvertent thoughtlessness or would he really do something like that? She knew he could be cunning and it wouldn't be _unlike _him. But to do that to her? She shuddered and tried to force the thought out of her mind as she put the phone aside and went to get dressed.

* * *

Taking their long walk that day with Rogue would have been a much more pleasant activity for Remy if he had not been suffering from the dull headache his hangover had left him with. Drinking bottles of water constantly were doing nothing except load his bladder and leave him constantly looking for bathrooms, the toast Rogue had made him eat did _not _seem to raise his blood sugar levels any and he felt lethargic and irritable as they walked together. The over the counter painkillers he'd bought when at the nearest store had done little to help lift the throbbing and the sun was still blinding him despite wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap.

_At least y' don' feel like y' need to puke, _he tried to think positively as he walked at her side along narrow stony streets, between ivy-covered walls, listening to the trickling of small fountains and the music drifting distantly from street musicians far away. He might have taken Rogue's hand, but she seemed too preoccupied for his romantic advances, every time he tried to look at her she'd glance away, finding something in the streets or the water front far more interesting.

They finally settled at a cafe along the scenic water front, watching the to-and-fro of tourists passing by as they sipped on their cappuccinos and ate pastries, watching the yachts and small boats come in and out of the harbour; as beautiful as the view was, he couldn't appreciate it. His head was still pounding far too much to let him enjoy anything.

"Its pretty here," confessed Rogue, a cappuccino cup poised near her lips, her eyes drinking in everything there was to see. "Ah just wish it wasn't so crowded."

Remy watched her, she shifted uncomfortably as someone passed by her chair, their hip brushing against her shoulder. She hated being touched, even accidentally; he couldn't blame her for that. She shifted her chair in towards the table a little, the outdoor seating area was packed, and the people passing by kept bumping into her chair.

"Y' want me to switch seats with y'?" he asked, he ran his finger casually over the rim of his cappuccino cup feeling dull and tired.

Rogue eyed his seat; he was aware there was a young woman sitting behind him wearing a strapless sun dress, he knew it because when he'd put his arm on the back of his chair, her back had brushed against his arm, her greasy sun lotion had left his arm shining.

"No..." she shook her head, "not a good idea," she pushed her pastry fork into her chocolate eclair and took a small bite. Remy wondered why she couldn't just use her bare hands to eat the thing, or was she so paranoid about removing her gloves in this crowd? "You sure you're not hungry?" she asked; when they'd ordered he'd wanted nothing but the coffee.

"Believe me, my stomach is full of coffee and water right now, ain' no room for pastry," he assured, he touched his stomach absently. It had felt off all day, but he was at least thankful his hangover hadn't led to any vomiting. He was sure if he had anything sweet to eat right now, that may change. "Besides, I'm savin' myself for dinner."

"Where do you want to eat?" she asked after taking a sip from her cappuccino.

"Somewhere with Duck," he decided, "ain' had duck for a while. Or maybe a real nice steak."

Rogue took another bite of the eclair, "Logan cooks a real nice steak. Always cuts like butter..."

Remy felt himself lose interest in the conversation the moment Logan had been mentioned. She clearly idolised the man beyond even _she _realised; he was certain she missed him, the look on her face said it all as she spoke of him.

"He likes his really rare...Ah don't know how anyone can eat a steak like that...like...it's practically still _mooing,"_ Rogue continued. "Ah always make sure mines is well done when he cooks...which is rare."

Remy dropped his eyes to his coffee. _Logan tried to call her quite a few times yesterday...why so eager to get in touch with her if there ain' anythin' goin' on there? _ He thought dully. When he'd set up the cell phone in the wine bottle trick he'd put the phone on silent and later dismissed the calls after retrieving it out of the wine bottle. It irritated him that Logan would be so determined to spend time conversing with someone who was so far away on a _vacation. _ Did he always have to keep tabs on her?

"How do you like it?" Rogue asked, she raised her cup to her lips.

"Lil' pink inside," he supposed.

Rogue spluttered; at first he thought she'd misinterpreted what he'd said, but her coffee splashed over her chest as someone walking behind her chair clumsily bashed into the back of her which caused her to pour the coffee over her neck and chest. She gasped and put the cup down, drenched in coffee.

Remy stood up immediately, the man who had bumped into the chair had no intentions apparently of even _acknowledging _the error or apologising. "Hey, man, what the fuck!?"

"Her chair is jutting right out on the street, it's not my fault her ass is taking up the pavement!" replied the man, who was clearly British.

Remy was about to lunge for the guy, ready to demand an apology, but he stopped because there was something about him that reminded him of a much younger Jean-Luc, and it caught him so immediately off guard that he stepped back and stared at him blankly. The moustache wasn't quite as pencil thin, the guy was much better groomed and _far _healthier looking. But the same eyes...same sharp nose.

"It's fine..." Rogue tried.

Remy shook himself mentally out of the reverie, "it's not! You could have been fucking burned!" he took a step towards the man, his hands burning as his high running emotions triggered the threat of his powers.

Rogue stood up quickly, throwing her hands up against Remy's chest, "It's fine! Ah'm not burned, the coffee was nearly cold...relax...it wasn't intentional..."

"He-"

"Calm down," Rogue repeated, "c'mon...please..."

Remy instinctively pulled a playing card from his pocket, his hand was twitching with the urge to use it.

"No..." Rogue warned, "it's just coffee..." she took both his hands and held them tightly, crushing the card in his hand, "it's _just cold coffee."_

When Remy looked back, the British man had gone, and the crowd was moving far too quickly for him to track which direction he had gone. He frowned, "prick," he muttered.

"It wasn't his fault," Rogue picked up a napkin and dabbed at the sweatshirt, which was purple, the coffee stain was huge and obvious, hard to miss. "He was right, my chair was too far out..."

"Y' shoulda let me-"

"Let it go," Rogue warned sternly.

Remy looked around the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of the guy, hoping to catch up to him and give him a lesson in manners. He was long gone, he'd used Rogue's trying to calm Remy down as an excuse to make a quick exit. _If he knows what's good for him he won' come near us again, _Remy thought, he took in a deep breath and dropped his eyes to Rogue who was peeling at the front of her sweater, it was sticking to her front.

"Y' shouldn't be wearin' crap like this anyway," Remy plucked at the shoulder of the sweatshirt, he couldn't fight the hostility that broke into his tone, "y' tryin' t' get heatstroke? Y' need to get some new clothes while we're here. Y' can't go around for the six days left wearin' sweatshirts and hoodies...you'll burn up."

"Ah can't exactly wear t-shirts and tanktops," Rogue reminded.

Remy glanced her up and down, "we're gonna go clothes shoppin', get y' some light things t' wear for the rest of the trip. Y' should be comfortable..."

"Ah am..."

"You're burnin' up in that, y' all pink in the face, Y' think I can't see?"

"Ah'm fine."

"Look, we're gonna get y' some clothes, that's the end of it...besides...it's a few hours drive back t' the villa...y' can't go around soaked in coffee like that. We gotta pick somethin' up now anyway," he sighed. He stared down the crowded street, still jarred by the sight of Jean-Luc's double. It had been quite startling.

"Remy, what's wrong with you, you're actin' all-" Rogue began.

"I...jus' don't like jerks," he replied, he didn't want to mention about the likeness...Rogue hadn't noticed and he didn't want to bring it up. He was sure she'd have an opinion on it that he _didn't _want to hear about. "Let's go."

* * *

Rogue hated clothes shopping; being a goth was difficult in places like this when the clothes store were selling elegant French fashions and nothing that was quite her tastes. She trailed behind Remy in a boutique as he went from rack to rack trying to encourage her to wear things that were floaty, light and feminine, none of which where quite suited to her particular tastes.

"What about this?" he asked, holding up a chiffon blouse.

"It's two hundred Euros," she gasped in disbelief as she gazed at the label dangling from the sleeve.

"And y' point is?" he asked, holding it up in front of her to judge the size.

"Look...it's pretty and all, but it isn't quite me..."

"Does it matter?" he asked, "it's a vacation, these people don't know what y' normally wear."

"You do," she reminded.

"I jus' want y' t' be comfortable..." he sighed, "will y' just humour me? Go put this on...y' need t' wear somethin' else other than that ruined shirt."

Rogue sighed and accepted the chiffon blouse (which was a dark colour of red which she did like, however, she _hated _the gold buttons and the lace panels) and went to try it on in the dressing room. It fit loosely over the black tanktop she had beneath, and although she hated the colour, it was a relief in comparison to the stuffy sweatshirt.

"Y' got it on yet?" he asked.

"Yeah...it doesn't suit me."

"Who cares, y' need somethin' to wear out," he said, he pulled the curtain open and examined her, "What y' talkin' about? It looks good on y'...red suits you."

"Red isn't really my colour."

"Goes nice with y' pale skin," he admitted, "gimme it, I'll go get the girl t' remove the anti-theft thing so y' can wear it out."

"It's too expensive..." Rogue sighed.

"It's only money."

"But-"

"It's my money, this how I wan' t' spend it, take the damn thing off..." he commanded irritably.

She groaned unbuttoning the blouse and tossing it towards him. For a moment, she saw him examining her in the mirror, his eyes falling on the slightly low collar of her tanktop. Insecurely, she pulled the front up a little, her cheeks flushing. Remy went off to pay for the thing as she stood there in the dressing room waiting for his return.

"It's all yours," he said, dropping it into her hands.

"Ah can't believe you just paid two hundred Euros for a _blouse."_

_"_I can't believe you don't pay more than _ten _for an entire outfit," he retorted.

"You know," said Rogue, "it's not fair, really, you're pickin' out stuff Ah have to wear, and you wear those god awful ugly shirts...Ah don't get to pick out your clothes."

Remy eyed her, his expression curious, "Yeah, well...if you got to pick my clothes I'd be wearin' a dog collar, leather pants and a fishnet shirt. You'd make me look like a goth stripper...or a dominatrix's _bitch_."

"No Ah wouldn't," she frowned.

"Or alternatively, y' would dress me up like Scott Summers...fuckin' Ambercrombie and Fitch poster boy that y' fawn over so much."

"Not true," Rogue rolled her eyes at him. She had been wondering how long it would take for his jealousy to rear its ugly head. She'd been surprised when it hadn't after she'd mentioned Logan's name at the cafe. "Ah don't fawn over him any more and Ah _haven't _for a long time. And Ah would _so _not dress you like him."

Remy eyed her suspiciously, wondering if that were true. She could read it all over his face like the words were printed on his cheeks. "Okay," he said, "lets do an _experiment_."

"An experiment..." she repeated.

"I'll give y' money, y' go t' that store across the street and y' buy me an outfit t' wear t' dinner t'night. While y' over there, I'll pick somethin' out for _you."_

Rogue thought this to be a rather idiotic idea, she wasn't really sure when it came to buying men's clothes. She'd only ever bought them once, and it had been the day after their wedding, when he'd needed _something _to wear leaving the hotel. But this was different, this was _dress _attire he was talking about.

"Are there rules?" she asked.

"No rules. Whatever we'd like t' see each other wear t' night. We exchange the stuff before we get ready, surprise each other."

"This is a really whack idea," Rogue made a face.

Remy took out his wallet and removed quite a bit of cash from it, "here."

"Is there a spend limit?"

"No. Spend how much y' like..." he took his phone out and typed for a moment, she felt her phone buzz against her hip.

"Did you just text me?"

"Yeah, just lettin' y' know my sizes," he explained, "Y' better do the same, I don' wan' end up gettin' somethin' the wrong size...so everythin', waist size, top size, shoe size..."

"Ah have to buy shoes?"

"If y' feel y' have to," he replied, "go on now...I got some shoppin' to do and so do you."

Rogue found it much harder to shop for Remy than she had imagined it to be. The problem wasn't that she couldn't find anything to suit him, but rather that she knew he would look good in almost _everything _and it made it much harder to determine what to get.

_You know whatever he picks out for you, you're going to hate, _she thought as she ran her hand idly over the rails, eyes shifting from garment to garment. _Pick somethin' out you know he'll hate; somethin' he wouldn't normally wear._

She settled on a three-piece grey suit and a rather neat shirt, she was almost certain it would make him uncomfortable, leave him feeling like a business man at a power lunch. She smirked to herself as she carried it out of the store after paying. Remy was standing outside leaning against a wall, a few bags in his hand, a cigarette in the other.

"Y' took forever."

"Ah had to be thorough," Rogue remarked.

"We better be leavin' about now if we expect t' get back in time t' change for dinner. I got a good recommendation t' a restaurant not too far from the villa," he gave his phone a glance for the time, then his eyes moved to gaze out over the street. For a moment, he seemed almost worried about something.

"Somethin' wrong?"

"No," he shook his head, "lets go."

* * *

**End of Part Three**

* * *

**Thanks to all who have reviewed the story up to now. I'm glad to see you guys have enjoyed the first two parts (and will hopefully like this one too). I'm sure there'll be some opinions on Remy's reaction at the table and his attitude for the rest of the chapter, lol. Hopefully it wasn't _too _angsty anyway, lol. I'm off to drink my instant coffee and sneak off with a chocolate digestive biscuit. Hope you guys all have a great rest of the week :) **

**Big shout out to Karen-er. Tayrn. Yes...that's right. Taryn. ;)**


	4. Part 4

**Trouble in St. Tropez**

**Part Four**

* * *

Remy couldn't shake off the feeling that had begun the moment he'd seen that British man who had bumped into Rogue's chair. It had been startling, and what was more startling that the face of this stranger was glued into his head just as the face of Jean-Luc was.

The man _could _have been him twenty years ago perhaps, healthy, bright eyed, almost passably good-looking. There were pictures of Jean-Luc Remy had seen when the man was much younger that had _not _been all that different from the man in the street. All right, so the man was trendier, better hair, better teeth, cleaner shaven. Still...it was uncanny.

Remy sat at the edge of the bed of the second bedroom in the villa, it had been half an hour ago he'd gone in to get changed but when he'd sat down for a moment, he'd somehow been unable to push himself any further. That face...he couldn't get it out of his head.

He wished he'd been able to tell Rogue about it but somehow he couldn't; he knew the things she'd say, he _knew _the suggestions she'd make. He expected he'd be told to call Charles Xavier for advice...or perhaps go to grief counselling or a _shrink_. He didn't need any of those, he just needed to get on with this vacation, have fun, forget about everything that had happened.

It was time to move on.

Remy's eyes passed over the garment bag hanging from the hook on the back of the door next to the complimentary terrycloth robe. He hadn't even looked at it yet. He sighed, he didn't even know if he wanted to go to dinner any more. What if that jerk showed up there? It'd be just as jarring...he didn't need to see that face again, didn't need reminding of the person that man resembled.

_Stop it. Don't let it ruin this. Just ignore it, it'll go away, _Remy stood up and moved over to the door and opened it; he had a feeling Rogue would take her time to get ready with what he'd given her. There was no rush, the reservation wasn't until eight, they had another hour.

He got the complimentary bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the fridge, opened it swiftly and poured himself a glass, standing there at the counter. _I should have smacked the guy, _Remy decided. _Way he made Rogue spill that coffee down herself...could have scalded her. Lucky it were lukewarm. Lucky for him..._

For just a moment, Remy thought he'd have liked to have pummelled the guy, not just a light punch to teach him a lesson but a _real _good thrashing. Remy poured the wine down his throat, it was somewhat bitter, not quite to his liking. He'd have preferred cider or beer but it was all that was there. He poured a second glass, sighing inwardly. _One more glass, then I'll get ready. _

* * *

Rogue sighed as she emptied the bags out onto the bed following her shower and spending too much time trying to dry her hair poorly with a rather inefficient hair dryer. Remy had bought far more than she'd expected him to. She'd thought he'd buy one outfit, but several shirts and tank tops had been purchased, enough to wear for the rest of the trip, enough for almost three changes a day. Two pairs of pyjamas...both satin (or silk? She wasn't sure, she hadn't checked the label) in black and purple, and a rather slinky long satin and lace nightgown that was a pretty jade green colour.

_All Ah wanted was a damn shirt and an outfit, he bought the entire store out, _she thought, feeling slightly annoyed. Why did he always have to go further? Why did he always have to push for more? She examined the pyjamas, which she felt were _not _suitable for someone her age; they were rather sensual and she was sure revealing. She gave a deep sigh and sat at the edge of the bed holding the nightgown.

_Ah can't wear this stuff...it's so...so..._

She chewed her bottom lip and gazed down at the shimmery slinky fabric beneath her fingers. _Sexy, _she finished her thought. _It's not me._

She hadn't even come across the outfit she was supposed to wear tonight yet. It was in the final bag; she removed the flat box from the bag and laid it out on the bed, lifting the lid and shifted the tissue paper from the fabric. White lace.

_Damn it, Remy. Had to be white, didn't it? Couldn't be black...dark red...purple...green...any colour that would actually _suit _me. No...had to be white...and...see through..._

She raised the lacy dress up, the top half was admittedly pretty and quite feminine but she worried about how much skin may show through the delicate flowery lace. She laid it out on the bed, examining the style, the flare of the skirt, the rather small waist of it, the non-existent sleeves. In the bag, there was also a small white cardigan with pearl buttons, there were white wedge heeled shoes and lace gloves.

And then, to her surprise, her eyes fell upon the _underwear _she realised she was _supposed _to wear with it.

She pursed her lips tightly together and tried to calm herself. The thought of Remy LeBeau picking underwear out for her, especially underwear like _this _with it's cream satin and lace and underwires...the thought disturbed her.

Tightening the complimentary terrycloth robe around herself, she stomped to the living room, surprised to find Remy standing there at the island counter sipping on a glass of wine, not even _remotely _ready, nor showered.

"What is this?" she demanded, holding up the set of underwear.

Remy gazed at her with a brief look of confusion, "looks like a bra and panties...coul' be wrong though," he replied.

"Underwear _wasn't _part of the plan, Remy. Or _was _it? Was I _supposed _to wear this and parade it for you like the bikini, or-"

"The girl in the store said y' needed white underwear t' wear that dress, that any other colour would show through..." he replied, "she picked it out..."

"How do you even know what size?" she demanded, she gazed at the label on the bra, and it was incredibly accurate leaving her shivering a little despite herself. Had he gone through her underwear? The thought of him touching them left her feeling slightly violated.

"I told her to go up a size from that bikini top...I remembered the size..."

"Why would you-"

"Can't y' just get ready? We have a reservation in less than an hour."

"You aren't even ready yet," she noted, her eyes fell to the glass in his hand.

"I don' take half as long as women do t' get ready..." he shrugged, he took a sip from the glass then put it down, "y' wear y' hair up a little?" he asked.

Rogue touched her hair absently, looking at him, she felt slightly blindsided by the question.

"And little less makeup than usual..." he added.

"Ah...is that what you _want?" _she blinked.

"F' tonight, yes," he replied quietly.

She wasn't sure what to make of the request but she shrugged; the game didn't feel half as much _fun _as it had seemed at first, not that it ever really had to begin with. She headed for the master bedroom, but before she went back in, she said softly, "get ready, okay? Ah won't be long."

* * *

Remy thought it rather amusing that Rogue had picked the least likely thing he'd have expected her to pick. A three piece suit wasn't exactly what he'd thought she'd _want _to see him in. He was almost certain she'd went out of her way to pick the thing that he'd feel less comfortable in, something that would not suit him.

Fortunately, he had the right build that seemed to be able to pull off the suit, although he thought the pants were a little too narrow in the leg for his liking, and the fabric slightly too shimmery.

He stared at himself in the mirror, shaking his head, thinking he looked like a celebrity about to go to an award ceremony, not a man about to go to dinner with his wife.

_Suppose it works f' keepin' up appearances if I want all the waitin' staff t' believe I'm a French millionaire, _he supposed, he combed his hair with his fingers. _I'm gonna be sweatin' like crazy in this though, _he realised.

He left the bedroom and headed back to the counter, his second glass of wine was still half-full and he picked it up and downed it before pouring his third. It was another ten minutes before Rogue left the master bedroom, looking exquisite in the dress he'd picked for her.

The dress fit just as he'd expected it to, she _looked _just as he'd imagined she would. No...in fact...she looked far _better. _Although her skin was quite pale, the dress did nothing to make her seem sickly, and instead, only seemed to bring out a slight peachy-tone to her skin that wasn't always as noticeable with the other colours she wore. She'd pinned her hair up just as he'd asked, although the front of her hair was already starting to come slightly loose, dangling in tendrils near her cheeks. Her eyes were dusted lightly, although she'd still worn her eyeliner quite thick causing her eyes to seem wide and innocent.

He smirked a little, "nice," he complimented.

"It's a little tight at the waist," Rogue complained, "it's pinchin' me."

"Looks damn good though," Remy eyed her up as she stood putting the lace gloves on, "Y' look very chic," he said, "everyone gon' believe y' the wife of a millionaire t' night."

"Is that what this is about?" Rogue asked, walking over, her heels making a loud click against the wooden floor.

"No," he confessed, "it was just a fun idea, that's all..."

At moment, all his uneasy feelings from earlier seemed to melt away, looking at her there like that, a vision in lace and white cashmere. For a moment, he had a strange flashback of the day they had stood at the alter, and as she'd come down the aisle looking so _unlike _how he had expected, so perfect and beautiful. His heart skipped a few beats to think of that moment.

He supposed that'd been why he'd chosen white...not just because it had been pretty and feminine, but because for just a brief time, it would be nice to relive that moment. The moment that had been over far too quickly before he could truly appreciate it. He almost wished he could relive the wedding again, do it all the right way this time...that way no one could tell them to have it annulled.

"Can't believe Ah'm gonna go out wearin' this," she admitted.

"You look stunnin'...so very grown up and stylish."

"It's not really me though," she reminded.

"Doesn't matter, jus' play the part. We can be anyone we want t' be here."

Rogue thought for a moment, and Remy wondered if she _could _be anyone she wanted to be, that she'd probably pick to be someone like Jean Grey, the girl she clearly despised, yet at the same time, envied for her beauty, her body and her brains. He'd seen the way Rogue looked at that girl with such jealousy and he thought if funny that if Rogue perhaps _had _looked like Jean Grey, he'd have never given her a second look.

"Taxi should be here soon," Remy glanced at his watch.

"Taxi? What's wrong with takin' the car?"

"Y' said y' got lost last night, thought I'd make it easier for y'," he explained, "besides, this way, y' can have a drink."

"Drinkin' isn't really my thing," she replied, her eyes on his glass of wine.

"Should soak it up before y' go back t' Bayville and have t' wait three more years."

Rogue shook her head, "nah. Ah'll be happy with a mocktail or a coke."

"Suit yourself. What you think of the suit?" he held his arms up and slowly turned for her.

"You look like you're tryin' to be a pop star," Rogue supposed.

"Well that's what happens when y' get the cut of the suit far too tight," he replied, "the top half is fine, but the legs ain' all that good...my legs are too thin f' these...I look like a damn hipster."

Rogue smirked, "see? It's not that much fun when someone picks your clothes, is it?"

"Don't matter what y' pick. Y' could pick a dress and platform shoes, I guarantee, I look good wearin' them."

"That's a bad image," Rogue confessed, she hovered for a moment, not sure what to do with herself, she seemed almost too self-conscious to even settle anywhere, as if she thought she may get dirt on her dress. "Hope Ah don't end up gettin' my chair knocked tonight..." she said, gazing down at her white dress, "this will stain if anythin' spills on it, white is the worst."

The incident shot back to him, and the happy spell was broken just like that. Jean-Luc's face was hanging around him again. To try and distract himself from thinking of that, he took his phone from his pocket trying not to let the unhappiness paint itself in his expression; he brought up the camera app and held it up, "smile."

Rogue made a face at him as he took her picture, "delete that."

"Never," he said, he moved over to her, "c'mon, lets do a selfie..."

"Oh god, no," Rogue made a face, "only losers do tha-"

Swiftly he leaned in and took the photo before she could object; mid word, her expression looked rather disgusted, he looked only bemused.

"Please get rid of those," she sighed.

"Why?"

"Ah don't want you showin' people us lookin' like _this," _she responded.

Remy wondered if it was more like she didn't want anyone seeing pictures of them together at _all, _she didn't want there to be any _suggestion _of their relationship when they returned. He wondered almost if she would be _embarrassed _about being with him when it came to her friends.

"Ah better go grab my phone...just in case Logan calls," Rogue realised, she turned about to go back to the master bedroom.

"Oh," he said, "damn."

"Hmm?"

"It's just...I didn't get y' a purse or anythin' to go with that outfit...and ain' no pockets in that dress..." he pointed out, "y' can't carry a cell phone on y'."

Rogue chewed the inside of her cheek.

"I could carry it for y'," he supposed. That way, he could put the thing on silent and make sure none of the calls got to her. He didn't need Logan interrupting their time together. Why encourage Logan to keep Rogue under his thumb further? He shouldn't have been trying to call at all, the girl was eighteen and on vacation, she didn't need harassing and constantly checked on.

"It doesn't matter," Rogue shook her head. "Ah'll leave it here."

"Wise choice. Besides, sure if Logan needs y' urgently, he jus' call me."

"Ah guess you're right," Rogue replied, although she seemed doubtful.

Remy finished his glass as his phone gave two rings and then stopped. He moved to the window at the front of the villa and gazed out to the road, "that's the cab. Y' ready?" he asked.

"As ready as Ah'll ever be, Ah guess," she looked down at her dress, "You sure Ah can pull this off."

"Pretty sure...and if y' can't..." he smirked as he looked her up and down, "when we get back I'll _help _y'."

_"You wish."_

* * *

Rogue didn't like the restaurant that Remy had chosen. It was far fancier, and _far _more pretentious than the place they had been to the night before. Her first clue was that the menu had absolutely _no _prices listed whatsoever. "There's no prices on this menu," she said, gazing down the list of meals, all in French. She could only pick out a few she recognised.

"So?"

"So..." she chewed the inside of her cheek, gazing at the menu thoughtfully, "this chicken dish here...it could be eighty Euros a plate for all you know."

"This restaurant," said Remy, he glanced around, his eyes drinking in the well-dressed people, "this isn't the kind of place people who worry about _money _come to for a good meal. This is about comin' somewhere the food is exquisite, not sittin' worryin' about what y' meal is gon' cost," he explained. "If y' gon' come in and freak out about the fact ain' no prices on the menu, then y' probably ain' the type should be eatin' here, non?"

"Seems kind of classist," Rogue admitted. "Ah don't know how anyone can live like that."

"Some people got the money."

"More money than _sense," _Rogue decided. "What it might cost for _one _meal here, you could probably feed a small third world country for a _day._"

"Hardly," he raised his glass of beer to his lips, he'd admitted it to be one of the best beers he'd had so far in his life. Rogue wondered how much _that _was costing him.

"Okay, maybe not a country, but a _town _or something. A small village...Ah mean...you could probably buy thirty huge bags of rice for the price of _one _dish."

"Will y' relax? I got it covered."

"Are you payin' with by _card _for all of this?_" _Rogue asked.

Remy looked at her strangely, "maybe...why?"

"Isn't there a limit?"

"It's attached t' an account that has enough money on it," Remy assured, "don't worry."

"What if...Ah don't know, what if you hit your limit and we get tossed out?"

"We're not gonna hit our limit..." he assured.

Rogue stared down at the menu, her mind drifting to what Jean-Luc had once accused her of...marrying Remy for money. She hadn't known at that point he really _had _any money. She'd always assumed he had been using stolen credit cards. Quietly, she finally said, "Ah'm not with you for your money, you know.

Remy gave a hearty laugh, "Y' think I assume that? I _insist _on payin' things like this and y' think that I'm under some kind o' impression that y' golddiggin', influencin' me t' buy y' all the pretty things?"

"Well..." she shrugged.

"If y' were a golddigger, y' wouldn' be kickin' up such a fuss any time I buy y' somethin' worth more than a couple bucks," he responded, "I know y' ain' got any designs on my money," he explained, he took a large drink from the glass, "I still want y' t' have things though."

"Ah don't _want _things."

"Y' don't get a say in it," Remy said, "when we get back t' Bayville, I'm gon' get y' a car," he decided.

"A car," she blinked, "Remy...Ah don't need a car-"

"Okay then. When we get back t' Bayville I'll give y' my Zodiac."

"Damn," said Rogue, "my plans have been foiled...you know, marryin' you for that ugly sage green fifty year old car."

"That car is a _classic, _it's worth a lot of money."

"If you say so," Rogue rolled her eyes at him. "It's in serious need of restorin', it's not worth more than couple of hundred dollars."

Remy smirked, "there's two hundred grand sewn int' the cushionin' of the back seat..."

She raised her eyes to him, blinking, "are you _serious?"_

_ "Yeah,_" he nodded, he took another drink from the beer, "I got a lot of money hidden in a lot of places just in case. There's money I _didn't _wan' t' declare when I bought myself out of the Guild. So...two hundred grand in the car – which by the way should be on it's way to Bayville now, I had it sent ahead – and I got a deposit box in Bayville too with another twenty grand I earned from Magneto."

Rogue had a mind to ask what exactly he'd been paid twenty grand for but she was sure he wouldn't disclose it.

"Got another hundred grand bricked int' a sewer tunnel in London. A client paid in cash only; knew I wasn' gonna get out of the country with it at customs so I hid it there, I'll get it back some day."

"Aren't you afraid anyone might find this money?" she asked.

"No one gon' find it where I hid it."

"Someone could steal the car."

"Never hide more money than y' can afford to lose," he said, "they're just back up plans."

"For what?"

"In case somethin' happens...need t' get away in a hurry...y' never now."

"Even now?"

"Not now...I mean, this was before, you know...all _this _happened."

"Before...all this..." Rogue began, she sipped her water, "did you have a plan?"

"Maybe," he supposed. "When I was sixteen and started freelancin' a little I wanted t' make enough millions t' retire here for life," he gestured around him.

"And do _what?" _she asked.

"Don't know, sleep with tourists, live the good life," he shrugged, he looked distant for a moment, "But...things changed...I mean...when I thought I'd join the X-Men, it wasn' gonna be for life, I mean it _couldn't _be for life. It still could be a plan...move here, y' know?" he gazed at her softly. "We could do that..."

"You think we'll be together that long?" she asked, quite surprised he was thinking that far ahead.

He drained his glass, "what makes you think we won't be?"

"It's just, you know...couples break up all the time..."

"And y' think we'll be one of those?"

"No...Ah don't know," she looked to the table guiltily, "Maybe. Ah mean...Ah don't know how you'll feel in a couple months when you figure out how borin' it's gonna be back in Bayville when we can only _date _and we're not marr-"

"Don't say it," he warned. "I'm sick of discussin' that. Goes roun' in circles."

"We have to address it sooner or later," She reminded.

"Why can't we just stay married?" he asked, "who's it gonna hurt?"

Rogue thought about this, "It'd just complicate things...besides, we always agreed it'd go back to bein' friends when we got to Bayville. Remember? We talked about quietly gettin' it annulled...or gettin' divorced when the smoke cleared?"

"That was _before _we became a couple, Rogue. It changed...we need to re-evaluate the plan..." he clicked his fingers and immediately a waiter came running eagerly. Remy ordered after asking what Rogue wanted, she had decided on 'some kind of chicken', and Remy made the decision for her. The waiter moved off swiftly. Remy was quiet for a moment, sitting deep in thought as he ran his finger absently over the rim of his water glass, which had still remained untouched.

"What needs to be re-evaluated?" Rogue asked.

"_Us._ I mean, it wasn't initially supposed to go like this, but we have t' try and adapt the plan t' suit how things happened."

"We just can't be married there, it'd be too awkward, and besides, Ah don't need all the speculation about _why _we got married, and Ah'm sure you don't need it either. Anyway, Ah don't want people wonderin' what we get up to."

"Let them wonder," Remy said, "Only we'll know."

"There isn't anythin' to know," Rogue replied quickly.

"Then what's the problem?"

Remy's expression was sombre for a few moments, their fresh drinks arrived, a non-alcoholic cocktail for Rogue and another beer for him. Rogue wondered if he were planning on getting drunk again tonight, he'd already opened wine, and now beer? How ill did he really want to be tomorrow?

_Didn't he say the last time he came here he got drunk every night? Maybe that's just what he does when he comes here, maybe it isn't anythin' to worry about..._

Rogue wondered if she were too hopeful or was only trying to justify it somehow. She sat back in her seat, afraid to put her elbows upon the table for fear it would be classed as 'rude'.

Remy picked a bread stick out of the glass in the centre of the table, "Hold this," he said.

"Hold it?"

"In two hands..."

Rogue accepted the bread stick, thoroughly confused as Remy went into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, drawing out a fifty Euro note, he held it up.

"I'll make a bet wit' y'...that I can cut through _that _bread stick with _this money."_

"With paper?" Rogue raised an eyebrow.

"With money."

"Is it _trick _money?" she asked.

"No, here..." he held the money out to her, "check."

Rogue accepted the money, there was nothing particularly odd about it, "Something is up your sleeves?" she asked.

"No," he said, he pushed his sleeves up a little, "see?" he showed her, "Nothin'."

"Okay..." she handed him the money back, "show me."

"Okay, hold it up, both hands...leave a nice gap between."

Rogue did as she was told, not sure what he expected to happen with a piece of paper. Was he drunk already? He had to be to assume he could pull this off.

Remy folded the note long ways, "need t' fold it, see, makes it nice and sharp."

"It's not gonna cut, Remy," Rogue replied.

"Just watch," he instructed. He gave it a quick swipe downwards, nothing happened at all. Rogue stared down at the bread stick.

"It's...not cut."

"It takes a few tries, jus' be patient, this is hard t' do right," he frowned in concentration, "okay...second try..."

A second and third try proved to do very little other than the paper money sliding easily away from the bread stick on the way down.

"I'm gonna get this right," he took a deep breath, "okay...watch."

And there it was, as he swept the folded money downwards the fourth time, the bread in her hands came apart, and she dropped her eyes to it, confused. She'd _felt _the impact.

"How did you do that?" she looked at the two pieces of bread stick, completely mystified.

"Magic," he replied.

"Oh come on...there's an explanation...there's a knife or somethin' in the money, right?" she grabbed for it and snatched it from his hand, to find there _was _nothing out of the ordinary about it other than the fact that it was folded long ways. "Oh..." she said quietly.

"Y' wan' me t' teach y'?" he asked with a smirk.

Rogue gazed at him, wondering if for one moment this was something else Jean-Luc had taught him too. Another clever distraction technique while Henri would be robbing someone blind behind the scenes. It seemed to her that Jean-Luc had known many magic tricks, but his greatest seemed to be having made Remy's _innocence _disappear.

"You know," she said, "Ah think Ah'd rather have the mystery. Ah learned a while back some times some things are better off not known."

Remy didn't reply, but she could tell by the strange expression on his face that he seemed to agree. She sensed at that moment he was thinking about the things Jean-Luc had taught him. The card tricks, the sleight of hand...Rogue didn't want him in that frame of mind. It could only lead to other things.

"Remy," Rogue said, "what's your happiest memory?"

Remy stared down at the table cloth, his expression conflicted for a moment, he didn't answer though, instead, he queried, "what's yours?"

"Ah asked you first..." she pointed out.

"Y' tell me first."

"As a lil' kid, Ah remember wantin' this expensive doll...y' know? It was like a real baby...it did everythin', made noises, peed, ate, stuff like that. Real sophisticated, it moved it's face... At the time it was the best toy ever, everyone wanted one, every girl my age had it, except me. We weren't super rich or anything, and Irene...she was lookin' after me, she couldn' afford it. Ah begged and all, Ah mean it was the _only _thing at the time Ah had _ever _asked for. Ah didn't really understand what bein' on a tight budget meant..." she ran her finger absently across the table cloth, "Christmas came around, and Ah hoped Ah was gonna get that doll...Irene kept tellin' me it was never gonna happen."

"And that's your happiest memory...?" Remy snorted, seeming quite confused over this.

"Listen," Rogue frowned at his interruption, "so...Ah'm good for the next few months, still beggin' for this doll...Ah'm doin' chores, Ah'm keepin' my grades up, Ah'm tryin' my damn hardest to prove Ah _deserved _that doll. Ah figure if Ah do everythin' Ah can, there's no way she can say no, right? So under the tree, Christmas mornin', Ah opened presents, you know, really cheap presents, wrappin' was really badly done...half the stuff still had the _price tags _still on 'cause Irene is blind, she couldn't see that. Even then Ah can remember bein' so _not _impressed and a lil' _angry too_. And then there was this one present, big box, sittin' right at the back of the tree and Ah'm thinkin'...you know this _has _to be it..."

"And was it?"

"No," Rogue shook her head, "in the box it was this _blanket, _this patchwork crochet blanket, the colours were all over the place, but the crochet work was so perfect and tight. Ah can remember how much Ah hated the colours...Ah'd never liked bright colours even then. For a minute I sat there with tears in my eyes just _devastated '_cause I didn't get the one thing I asked for."

"I don' get how this is a happy story," Remy confessed.

Rogue felt her cheeks go red, "Irene had made the blanket herself...it took her nearly six months to make that blanket...crocheted every little patch herself, sewed it on, didn't even know what colours she was putting together. She told me sometimes in life, we don't get the things we want...sometimes we have to make do with the things we get. At the time Ah never realised it was a lesson she was tryin' to teach me...to prepare me for what might happen..."

"Oh."

"Ah never got that doll...lookin' back on it now Ah figure the novelty of it would have worn off in a couple of weeks. But that blanket stayed on my bed until the day Ah left Irene's house."

"How is it a happy story?" he asked again.

"Because it was a simpler time, Ah guess, it's hard to explain" she shrugged, lowering her eyes to the table cloth, "Nothin' was as complicated as it is now...in those days my biggest disappointment in life was a doll Ah never got. But...weirdly, it makes me a little happy, thinkin' of Irene sittin' there crochetin' that blanket for me...sometimes Ah miss that blanket. Sometimes the things you didn't think you'd care much for end up bein' the things that matter the most."

Remy stared at her, his expression intense, "the day y' said y' loved me."

Her eyes rose to his, it startled her a little, because this was also the most _miserable _day of his life. How could he find happiness in any of it?

"Right at that moment when y' said it I knew I could die happy," he confessed, he dropped his eyes, he pushed the silverware around a little, spacing them out evenly as he spoke.

Rogue chewed her bottom lip. Although she still felt it deeply, she couldn't find the words right then to say so.

"When I saw the fear in y' eyes that I _would _die..." he continued, "I knew y' did. Wasn' jus' the hearin' it, was seein' it...feelin' it. Firs' time ever felt like someone love me f' real."

The conversation about their happiest memories felt strangely depressing somehow, and it ended there. Their meals arrived and they ate, making conversation about the food. All night, Rogue could see Remy was strangely distracted. He'd order beer upon beer, and eventually he became more talkative about other subjects although his speech became more and more slurred as time went on. Rogue couldn't help but be fascinated by his stories of how he'd pulled off some amazing heists by the skin of his teeth, cons that had taken months of work. And she could tell just by the way he spoke that _none of it _was fabricated. By dessert, he was absolutely positively drunk and no longer getting the details of his stories right, instead, he moved onto joking with waiters (at least as far as she could tell, as they'd speak in French) and performing more table magic (for a Honeymooning couple at the next table who were French; he made the wife's ring 'disappear and re-appear').

Rogue was glad when the meal was finally over; she had Remy call a taxi and they waited, Remy finishing one last beer before it eventually arrived.

Rogue didn't argue when Remy _generously _tipped the cab driver with what she was certain was a hundred Euros. It seemed much fairer to tip a cab driver that money than to spend it on one single plate at a restaurant. She'd spied the end bill at the end of the meal, and had seen it go into the several hundreds. She'd felt quite dismayed, but Remy had told her to mind her own business when it came to the cost of the meal, and she'd left it at that, not wanting to cause an argument.

Remy was humming the violin music which had been playing in the restaurant as he clumsily tried to unlock the door, Rogue hanging at his back wondering if he'd be all right tonight. He didn't vomit last night (she'd been up and down several times to check) but she was concerned tonight he just may.

For now, he looked all right other than his expression being rather slack and his coordination being poor. Rogue took the key from him, "here...let me..."

Remy moved behind her as she worked at getting the three locks in the villa door unlocked. She felt him slide an arm behind her waist, his breath hot near her ear. She craned her neck carefully away.

"Careful," she warned.

He planted a few kisses on the shoulder of her cardigan, waiting for her to get the door unlocked. Her fingers trembled at the lock as she tried to focus. It was quite distracting.

"You should go to bed," said Rogue once she'd finally opened the door. She pulled away to step in, he trailed behind her, a finger gently caressing playfully up her back.

"Not tired yet," he said.

"Ah am, Ah'm beat," she moved away quickly to go lock the door up from the inside, he moved next to her, standing with his shoulder against the door frame, hand gently gliding up and down her back, a slight smile playing about his lips.

"Stop it," she warned, "go sit."

"Yes, ma'am," he saluted her then wandered off, he dropped into an arm chair and kicked off his shoes, he immediately loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons on the shirt, sighing as if in relief. "Y' know how hot this damn suit is?"

"Hot enough," she supposed, she finished locking the door, she tossed the villa keys onto the table, then she slipped her own shoes off, the toe of her panty-hoes had rubbed against the shoe and had caused a hole. She examined her unpainted toenail critically.

"A lot of men was lookin' at you, y' know, at the restaurant," Remy slurred, watching her closely. "I didn' like it."

"You didn't?" she felt almost amused, she took the pins out of her hair and let it down.

"Y' dress like that f' my eyes only..."

"If you say so," she slumped on to the couch tiredly, yawning a little. It had been a very long day and everything from her mind to her bones were tired.

Remy eyed her, his expression strangely smouldering and dark, "what y' sittin' over there for on y' own?"

She looked at the couch, "Hmm?"

He inclined his head for her to come over, she sat there, staring at him, feeling slightly shy again the way she had the day they had arrived and they were alone in the bedroom. The same way she'd felt when they'd been alone on their wedding night. "C'mere..." he commanded.

She dropped her eyes nervously to the rug, "Ah'm fine where Ah am."

he pushed himself up with a grunt.

"I see, have it y' way," he muttered, and he came over, pushing the coffee table out of the way a bit so he could drop to his knees in front of her, making _sure _she would look at him, the fingers of each hand found her knees and he pushed them apart a little, moving forwards to push his hips between them.

"You're drunk..." she pointed out.

"Ain' a crime," he vaguely laughed, "y' smell nice...what is that y' wearin'?" he leaned close and breathed in.

"Ah ain' wearin' anythin'..." she responded; she doubted it was her roll on deodorant he could smell, it was unscented.

"That sounds...promisin'," he teased, hands gliding up her thighs, pushing the skirt up a little with them.

"Behave," she told him, trying to be stern, she felt too exhausted for this game tonight.

"I am behavin'," he assured, his face near her neck again, "there's a nice...sweet smell about y' though..." he breathed in deeper.

"Maybe the berries from the dessert..." she swallowed hard, her eyes fell to his hands, the skirt halfway up her thighs now. "The juice from the cocktails..."

"Not that..." he shook his head, he lowered his head to her chest, breathing, sliding down lower. "It's much...more intimate..."

"Remy!" she gasped loudly as he pushed her skirt up far further than she'd thought he would, his face was close to her crotch, her entire body flushed with embarrassment and she tried to push him back.

He smirked up at her, "y' turned on...I can tell."

"Shut up..." she pushed him back and pulled herself onto the couch, sitting on the back rest, knees pushed together tightly, "It's not funny."

"Wasn' meant to be," he climbed towards her, hand sliding up her knee, "y' breathin' is faster...y' eyes are bigger...y' face is all flushed...so's y' chest..." he said hotly, "and y' smell sweet...musky..."

"Ah do not!" she retorted, feeling slightly angry and _insulted_ at the insinuation he could _smell _anything from her other than the dessert she'd eaten earlier or the fruit from her cocktails.

"Don' take it as offensive," he slurred, "there's nothin' bad about it. Why don' y' take this off..." he gestured to the dress, "let me see that sexy little underwear set a bit better, huh?"

"No," Rogue hopped over the back rest, and moved around the couch.

"Why? Y' afraid I see somethin' I ain' seen before?" he chuckled. "'Cause I seen it all...y' ain' gon' have anythin' that can shock me...not in a _bad _way anyway..."

"Remy, you're _drunk..._go to bed," her face burned with the humiliation of this. She'd never had to deal with him come on this strong before, never had it from _any _man, and she had no idea how to rebuff it.

"Y' gonna come too?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

"No, you're goin' alone, with a puke bucket," she shifted as he moved to follow her around the couch, he ignored her comment and staggered around the couch, chasing her towards the master bedroom, she swiftly got inside, threw the door shut and turned the lock quickly.

"Go to _bed, _Remy," she called through the door, she shook her head at his stupidity and this display. He'd made jokes about this kind of thing before but right now she got the distinct impression he was _very _serious.

"I am," came a voice from the bathroom door, a smirk playing about his lips. She had forgotten about that, she couldn't lock the bathroom door from the _outside, _he'd walked around.

_Didn't think that one through, _she rolled her eyes at herself. _ Ah should have ran to the bathroom door leadin' to his room and locked that too._

He pounced her and tackled her down to the bed, she let out a shriek, as his hands went right to her ribs, tickling her.

"No, stop!" she yelped, far too ticklish to stand it, she tried to push him off, "don't make me hit you."

"Didn' realise y' were so ticklish," he pinned her, the tickle attack still ensuing.

She laughed until her eyes were streaming with tears, "enough!" she pleaded. "Ah can't take it."

He stopped, "see...I've heard that in bed before, but usually it ain' when I'm ticklin' a woman..." he said hotly near her ear.

Her head had been turned away from him but she slowly moved to look up at him, his expression was serious, so intense and hot, his breath was hot as it brushed near her mouth; she could almost _taste _the alcohol on his breath. She swallowed hard, his hand was sliding up her thigh, and this time there was _nothing _playful about it.

Rogue's head swam with intoxication of a different kind than his, his charm, his attractiveness, the way he smelled and felt. For a moment, she _wanted _to let him, sucked in by the mesmerising way he looked at her, locked eyes and almost made her _believe _that they were only for her. Right at that moment, she knew _why _so many silly girls always gave in to men like Remy LeBeau.

There were many reasons she understood why she should _not _give into him; it staggered her that her _powers _were _not _her first concern this time. She quickly put her hand on his, stopping him, pushing it back, "no..." she shook her head.

"Chere..." he said softly, "the timin' is so _right..."_

"Ah know..." she admitted and she swallowed hard, whenever she tried to speak there was a strange lump in her throat as if her body were trying to deny her the right to prevent this. "But you're drunk..."

That was the problem. He was drunk. She couldn't _deny _for one second that something about the timing and the moment felt strangely right. She felt with all certainty that if it weren't for this _one thing, _there'd be no fight in her to refuse his charm.

"Jus' enough," he teased, trying to push his hand back up her leg.

"No..." she moved his hand away, pushing him back. She sat up, sweeping her hair from her face, "not like that."

"Chere..." he pleaded.

"No," she said, this time more firmly. "You're _drunk..._it shouldn't be like that."

"I'm _fine,"_ he sighed, "I jus' had a few beers..."

"That was the way it was _the last _time...and you didn't remember the next again morning."

"Huh?"

"Our _wedding _night..."

"Christ," he muttered, "Y' gon' bring that up again?"

"_Last _night," she added, "you were drunk...you didn't even remember how we got home. How can I trust you'd remember _this?"_

"If I didn't, would it matter?"

The question strangely hurt.

"It'd be almost exciting...have a first time over and over," he jested.

"No...that's not funny," Rogue said coldly, "Ah'm serious. Ah don't want it to be like that..."

"How _do _y' want it t' happen?" he sighed, growing a little impatient and disappointed.

She drew her breath, "if this is gonna happen, then...it has to be with you being _sober."_

"Rogue...sometimes y' don' fuck with the right moment," he tried, "right now feels _right, _y' know that."

"Ah'm _not _contestin' that," she confessed, feeling it didn't matter at this point what she said, he was unlikely to really remember in the morning any way.

"Then lets just ignore the fact I'm drunk, I _feel _fine..."

"Ah'm _serious," _she said again, she stood up and moved away from the bed, "You touch me now...Ah won't _be _here in the mornin'."

He sighed, running his hand through his hair, "so what y' want me t' do? Y' wan' me t' go drink a load of black coffee, sober up first?"

"No," Rogue said, she gestured to the bathroom, "Ah want you to go through to your bedroom, and Ah want you to go to bed."

Remy shook his head, she wasn't determined if it was more at himself or her, either way, he seemed displeased with the eventual outcome. Sighing, he staggered through to the bathroom without so much as another word; it was barely twenty minutes later she could hear him loudly snoring from the other bedroom.

She sat looking at herself in the mirror, feeling drained, both emotionally _and _physically. And almost _intrigued. _

_If he hadn't been drunk...would Ah have really...? _she wondered, she swept a makeup remover wipe over her eyelid, smearing away her smudged (thanks to her tears of laughter) makeup. She stubbornly wadded up the used wipe and tossed it into the trashcan near the dressing table, shaking her head. It was no use really wondering now, if tonight was anything to go by, she'd _probably _never need to find out.

* * *

**End of Part Four**

* * *

**Thanks to all for the super reviews so far (especially the longer ones as it's nice knowing what you're all thinking about the story so far). Sure there's some surprise somewhere that the angst isn't all that bad this time around (although it's definitely there somewhere, lol). Hopefully some of you are enjoying the more "playful" side of Remy as opposed to the depressed side, haha. **

**Admit it, how many of you thought that when Remy wanted Rogue to wear white that there was going to be a secret wedding somewhere that he'd drag her too? LOL. **

**I hope you're all having a splendid weekend and will have a great weekend ahead, thanks for taking the time to read as always :)**


	5. Part 5

**Trouble in St. Tropez**

**Part Five**

* * *

Remy had thought his hangover the day before had been hellish but it was _nothing _compared to the hangover he woke up with that next morning. He rolled over, miscalculating how much of the bed he'd been lying on and fell completely off, a loud thump seemed to slam through both him _and _the floor as he landed on the giant rug under the bed. The room was so bright, he'd left the curtains open, the patio doors open to let the cool air in, and the voiles were providing _no _diffusion against the bright morning sun.

He felt sick to the stomach, the alcohol from the night before churning through him like soapy water in an unbalanced washing machine, his mouth tasted horrible, his head swam with noise and pain. He could barely open his eyes he felt so poorly.

He couldn't even stand he felt so completely floored by it that he had to crawl his way pitifully to the bathroom on his hands and knees; he hung around the toilet for some time before eventually the vomit came up, torrents of it. Each retch echoed through the large bathroom, seeming to bounce from toilet and to wall to wall; the sound of it _hurt _him.

_Christ, how much did I fuckin' drink? _He thought in distress, the only _clear _thought he could quite form between the bouts of it.

The bathroom had been swathed in cool comfortable dimness (as it had no windows) but the light came on and it was bright and painful and he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned in distress.

"Are you okay?" came Rogue's groggy half-asleep query.

"The ligh'..." he managed.

"Huh?"

"The _ligh'..." _a burst of vomit spewed, he barely managed to aim for the bowl. He breathed heavily, his throat burned as if he were upchucking pure acid. "_Turn th' ligh' ou'..." _he pleaded.

Rogue switched the light off swiftly upon his second request, he threw up again, he heard her groan at the _smell _and sight of it, he caught her in his peripheral vision as she averted her eyes, twisting her head round a little, making a face of disgust.

"Can y' jus'-" three small bursts, "jus'-" another two. "Jus' go...don' _wan' y' _seein' me like this..." he gripped onto the bowl hard. Christ, how much more could there be? How much had he drank? A barrel or two?

"Little late for that," Rogue commented, sounding slightly cold towards him, but she walked away from the door, leaving him to vomit in piece. Part of him oddly felt rejected that she _had _gone even though it had been at his request. He almost wished she'd _insisted _on staying. It might have meant she _cared _enough to.

He crawled back to the bedroom after he was certain it was over; slipping beneath the slightly tangled sheets, shivering a little, feeling cold despite he was aware the room was warm, his body wet with cold sweat. He lay there, pulling the pillow over his head. Even the noise of the ceiling fan was leaving him in agony.

Footsteps, heavy...thump, thump, thump. Was she _stomping _or was it just his perception due to the hangover? He heard a loud clunk of something being put down on the night stand.

"Drink this," Rogue said, he listened; heard her pulling the thick curtains at the patio doors shut, the room darkened, he felt the dim closeness of it, it was a welcome relief.

He raised the pillow almost cautiously from his head, gazing over at the night stand, there was a tall glass of ice water there. Quietly (and rather sheepishly) he mumbled, "thanks," and picked the glass up, raising it to his lips.

"Ah guess you should stay in bed and sleep this off," she said, heading for the dresser; the bag from the pharmacy they had been at yesterday was still sitting on top of it, she dug around inside of it as he watched her, her posture was strange, her back tight, her expression hard, her lips pursed as she turned back towards him.

"I jus' need a lil' bit, get m' head t'gether..." he took a long drink from the glass.

Rogue took two aspirin from the box of them he'd bought yesterday, walking over; jesus, each footstep was louder than the one before it. He winced inwardly and tried not to let it show that it bothered him quite as much as it did. "Here."

"I'll be fine in abou' an hour," he said tiredly.

"Yeah...you look like you will be," she commented coldly.

"Time we get in last night?" he asked, he held his hand out as she passed the pills to him.

"Eleven," she commented.

He tried to think of the last thing he did, he remembered parts of the meal, especially the lamb he'd eaten for dinner. Of course, it was easy to remember that, having seen it in _reverse_ only moments before.

"You don't remember getting home?"

"I remember," he lied, he swept his hair from his face, popped the tablets into his mouth, downed them with a large gulp of the water, it left him feeling strangely sick again and he had to try and focus on not letting it affect him. "It were a nice evenin'."

Rogue tilted her head, there was something about the way she stared at him disapprovingly that left him uneasy, what was wrong with her this morning? Her hair was tinged with sweat and she was still wearing those cotton pyjamas he'd bought her in Louisiana. She looked hot and uncomfortable.

"Why didn' y' wear the silk pyjamas I got y'?" he asked deciding right now he would rather her answer this than why she seemed so positively annoyed with him.

She didn't answer, and instead, remarked "sleep it off, Remy. Ah'm gonna go out for a bit."

She didn't even say goodbye, she simply left the room, shutting the door behind herself. Remy wondered if when she said she was going out, she meant she was actually leaving for good; right now if he were in _any _condition to chase her he may have. The thought of _moving _to catch up with her made him feel sick.

Remy lay back down, sighing deeply. _She's mad at me, _he realised. _She don' like this vacation, she's made it clear from the start...she jus' ain' int' this...startin' t' wonder if she's even _really _int' me at all? She's so hard t' get close t' now...harder than she was in Louisiana._

Thinking of this, he realised it had only been _easier _because most of it had been an act. Here she wasn't obligated to act it out; here she didn't _need _to pretend to feel anything. He found himself wondering if when she'd said she loved him that night during the meeting with the council, if she'd _lied. _If it had been panic and nothing more.

He closed his eyes and tried to clear his head, he couldn't deal with this right now on top of the hangover, it was making his head and _heart _feel much worse, putting his stomach in more knots than it already had been. Right now, what he needed was a proper chance to recover before he could think of how to appease her later.

* * *

Rogue wasn't sure how to channel her anger with Remy this morning; she wasn't sure how to channel it because she wasn't sure she had a _right _to be angry with him. He was on vacation, it was his chance to cut loose, have a few drinks, have fun.

But getting that drunk two days in a row...not _remembering _two days in a row? It worried her and it infuriated her.

_He didn't remember, Ah knew the moment Ah asked him he didn't remember a damn thing. He's a good liar, but he had that look...that look that seemed to ask if there was somethin' he _should _have remembered. He'd have brought it up if he remembered, he ain't the kind of guy to tiptoe around that kind of thing._

She took the car and drove in to town, getting lost several times thanks to the GPS which led her in circles and told her to get off on the wrong road. She hated to admit it to herself but it felt good to be away from him for a while; ever since she'd left for Louisiana with him weeks ago, they'd spent most of their time together. Right now it was stifling, she wasn't sure if it was the _hangovers _that made it feel that way or just the relief that she didn't have to look at him _pretend _to be all right.

The day before she'd spent looking at his grumpy face, watching him throw bottles of water down his throat and try to get himself through it but she'd been aware he'd felt particularly poor the entire day even when he had _pretended _to be fine. She didn't want a repeat day of it, it was why she'd decided to go out without him. The thought of spending another day watching him suffer a hangover didn't sit well.

_Since we met Ah've watched him suffer four hangovers, _she realised unhappily, she found a place to park and wandered from store to store never buying anything. Something had been different about last night's drinking, different than the first night. He'd been strange, she couldn't quite place what had seemed to have caused it.

She checked her phone, but there were no missed calls. She'd taken so long in being away by now that she almost expected he may call her to make sure he was all right.

_He's not gonna call, he'll be out like a light, _she tried to soothe herself. She briefly thought about calling Logan just to check in but she was worried that the one of her voice may give it away that something was wrong. She didn't want to give _any _indication that something may be.

_Ah could call him and ask for advice...maybe he'd know how to handle this?_

Rogue immediately decided against the thought; Logan would just insist on coming here...she'd already heard it in his voice he was close to letting _one thing _be all it took to convince him he needed to be there to 'help'.

_Would it be such a bad thing? _She pondered. _He's so good at dealin' with things head on...he's stronger than me when it comes to this stuff._

But then, Rogue reminded herself that the last time Logan had tried to help Remy, he'd had him at tipping point and pushed him over the edge into admitting things he hadn't wanted to admit. Ever since that night, Remy had different; putting on more of an act to be like himself (at least the _himself_ she was familiar with) than he ever had before.

No...Logan couldn't be involved. His approach was too heavy handed, too direct, it was too close to the bone right now, he didn't need any more pushing. Rogue felt she needed to do this her own way, she needed to find a solution herself. And for now, for this moment in time she had to try and justify what was going on...it was a vacation, people drink on vacation. It didn't _have _to mean anything; he was an eighteen year old with some room to cut loose before losing _a lot _of freedom. That was how she was going to justify it to herself for now, it was the only way she could make herself feel slightly more secure about being here alone with him.

But she still needed a _solution _for this moment in time.

_The best thing to do would be to keep him away from places where he can drink for a little bit, _Rogue thought logically as she walked. He'd drank the only bottle of wine the villa owners had left as a complimentary gift. It was out of the way now, all that was there was water and soda. All she had to do was keep him there.

The villa had its own kitchen, pans and utensils; everything was there to cook a meal. She made up her mind as she gazed into the window of a butchers that this would be a fantastic idea. Distract him with a home cooked meal, perhaps she could find a DVD in English to buy and they could watch that. She could do _everything _in her power to keep him entertained.

_Make him believe you're playin' the romance card, _she suggested to herself. _He fusses over you all the time...maybe what he needs is bein' fussed over himself..._

Rogue stood gazing in windows, wondering if that would work. These past few days his interest in romance had seemed to wane...at least until he was _drunk. _She tried not to let this thought get to her. It never would have before.

Still...the idea of romance might be a solution to this for now.

_You could light some candles, make him dinner...dress up, make a _real _effort...put some music on...try to have a _deep _discussion that isn't depressing...just...anythin' it takes to get his mind out of wantin' to go and get hammered, _she told herself, examining the meat, trying to decide what she could make. _This is what he needs to get his mind off of the subject of his daddy and what happened in Louisiana. This is why we came here._

Yes, this was _exactly _what he needed. The past few days he'd tried to make a lot of the vacation about impressing _her, _trying to provide the best, extravagant meals, expensive clothes, walks along the Water front, private villa and beach.

The villa had a shaded veranda with a table and chairs, an _incredible _view...why go out to eat when they had everything right there?

_Make it all about him, _she told herself. _Don't give him an excuse to want to try and drown his sorrows, _she told herself. She had to wonder if that's what he _was _doing or if she was simply over-thinking this.

She went from store to store getting the things she needed (after using her phone to quickly look up a simple recipe for a meatloaf, which, to be fair, wasn't exactly gourmet, but looked easy and sounded just like the kind of _hearty _meal he really needed after two days of rich expensive food), and then, deciding to indulge him, went to a boutique and searched out something to wear that she _thought _might make him happy (or at least pique his interest).

_Just make the effort, _she kept telling herself. _He put all this effort into plannin' a nice vacation...return the favour._

She settled on an outfit she thought he may like (not her style, but when she tried it on in the store the shop assistant assured her – in mangled English – that it looked fantastic on). She found a DVD (she picked it merely due to the fact it seemed to have English subtitles and the picture on the front looked oddly creepy, which she supposed was more to indulge _herself _than Remy) and with everything she was _sure _she needed, she went home, her pockets almost empty of the last of the cash she'd had from what Remy had given her yesterday to buy his outfit.

_Just go at this a hundred percent, _she told herself. _Do it for him, he _needs _this right now.__Give him everything he needs. Give him the _wife _treatment. It'll be the only time he'll ever get it._

* * *

Remy LeBeau awoke from his sleep with a start; he gazed around the room in confusion, his breathing was heavy, his chest hurt as if for a time his heart had stopped beating. For a moment, it was his old room in the house at Louisiana; the same window, the narrow bed, the uncomfortable mattress, the sound of the house settling, groaning and cracking.

For a minute, there'd been touching, it still lingered with him like the smell of alcohol and sweat. Everything was vivid, the sound of _his _breathing, louder than the sound of his own. The grunts and moans seemed to echo distantly in his ears.

He sat up somehow managing to refrain from the gasp that wanted to escape; his eyes adjusted to the room, the dull light struggling to break through the thick lined curtains, the warm air moved from the ceiling fan swept his face, the sound of it's rhythmic thumping had been bothering him earlier, but now was only strangely reassuring.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips, and he remained still for a minute or two, taking the time to breathe and get his heart rate back down again. It was racing, seeming to vibrate and thrum against the wall of his chest, it felt four times its size...or perhaps it was that he felt _small, _like a child again.

He ran his hand through his hair, hand trembling. He kept reminding himself not to panic. It hadn't been the first time he'd had dreams like that but it had been a good while since they'd been that graphic. These dreams had not been quite this vivid in a good few years yet the absence of them had not made the aftershock any easier to deal with. The sickness, the dirtiness, the fear...it never changed, it didn't matter how long it had been.

Remy could tell just from the way the sun was filtering through the slit between the curtains that the sun would be falling soon, he'd slept through the entire day.

He turned to gaze at the curtains closer, they were swaying in the breeze coming from the open patio doors; something caught him by surprise...there was a silhouette lingering in front of the curtains, tall, lanky and eerie, completely black against the dull curtains, the orangey light from the sun struggling through outlined him perfectly.

Remy _knew _that lanky frame, he remembered it, it was burned into his memories and his nightmares...burned into every _bad _thought he'd ever had. Remy jumped from the bed with a start, a low cry escaping his lips. He found the light switch on the wall and slammed it hard; as the room lit up, he saw there was no one standing there.

_Jus' a dream...y' weren't awake...y' weren't awake, _he thought shakily, his back pressed to the wall, his breath coming in with jumps and spurts. _No one's there...f' fucks sake, get y' self t' gether..._

He had to be sure...he rushed to the veranda, throwing the curtains open and stepping out to see that the sun was starting to set; he turned to look at each side of the L-Shaped veranda, even peered around the corner to check. There was no one there...there never _had _been.

For a moment, he'd perhaps thought there might have been a burglar; beach front houses were easy pickings...the police didn't patrol these areas as frequently as they needed to, it took forever for them to get there. He _knew _that because in his time he'd _robbed _these types of places before himself.

If he'd been stealing from the villa himself, he realised he wouldn't have come in the daylight hours, even though the sun was starting to get lower it was still too bright and out in the open. A good thief would watch from a distance and wait patiently until nightfall, wait to see if the villa inhabitants were going to go out for dinner (as most people who rented these types of beach front houses often did). That would be when he would strike. Daylight robbery was definitely a no-no.

_There's no thief here, _Remy thought dully. _Other than me._

He felt he still had to check; he gazed up and down the beach, squinting, concentrating on any kind of signs of it. There was no one around, no one on the beach, nothing to suggest _any _one had ever been there. Not so much as even a little sand on the veranda. He turned and went back inside, shaken. Trying to pull himself together as his eyes dropped to the bed. The covers were hanging off and he realised he must have thrashed around...the sheet had come off of the bed completely, the mattress protector hanging off a little, one of the pillows was across the room.

_Jus' had a nightmare, that's all. Wasn't fully awake,_ _jus' shadows on the inside playin' tricks with the light on the outside, the weave in the drapes, the light bouncin'...that's all, _he tried to tell himself.

He moved to the bathroom and he splashed water on his face to try and wake himself up. He wondered what time it was...it had to be late if the sun was going down...Rogue was probably _furious _with him by now, she'd have been on her own all day. He glanced up at himself in the mirror, turning on the light above it. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes puffy and slightly glazed. All the sleep had done him little good physically...he still looked drained.

His hands were trembling still as he turned off the faucet and he clenched them, feeling slightly angry for letting this happen. _Stop it, _he warned himself.

As he left the bathroom he threw a nervous glance towards the patio again, nothing there was definitely nothing there except the moving of the voiles now that he'd opened the curtains. Feeling exceptionally cautious he shut the patio doors and locked them before heading for the living room area. If there was a thief, he wasn't getting in that way without a glass cutter or a crowbar.

It was surprising to see Rogue hovering around the kitchen area; he could smell food and although he still felt slightly sick from the hangover, his stomach rolled as he realised he hadn't eaten all day and he was beginning to feel quite hungry.

"You're up," she said, she looked strangely relieved as she gazed up at him as she moved across the floor bare foot, he could see sand between her toes and he realised she'd probably walked on the beach while he'd been sleeping off the hangover. For just a moment he even wondered if it might have been _her _silhouette he'd seen at the window...maybe she'd come up from the beach and come into check on him and walked right out again.

_No...I wasn' lyin' down, I was sittin' up, she'd have fuckin' said somethin' if it were her. It was trick o' the light and nothin' more._

"Yeah...still half asleep though," he said, still feeling groggy and slightly disturbed; he fought to hide it and maintain as normal a composure as he could.

"Ah checked on you earlier," she replied.

"Y' checked?" he asked, for one moment doubting himself again that it could have been her. No...it couldn't have been, he knew what she looked like, she wasn't as tall as Jean-Luc, nor was she was menacing as that person had been. _It wasn't her, it wasn't anyone, jus' fuckin' shadows. Get y'self t'gether f' fuck sake._

"Make sure you were still _breathin'..._the minute Ah walked in Ah realised you were okay judgin' by all the snorin' you were doin'."

"I don' snore," he grumbled.

"You must have tossed and turned quite a bit," Rogue commented, "your covers were all over the place."

"Yeah...hard t' sleep in this damn heat," he muttered.

"Funny, Ah think it's cooler here today than it was back in Louisiana..."

"What y' doin' anyway?" he decided to change the subject. "What is all this?" he asked, he watched as she stirred something in a pot quickly then knelt down to examine something through the glass door of the oven.

"Ah thought Ah'd make you somethin' for dinner," she glanced up at him, a bright smile lit up her face.

"You did? What we havin'?"

"Meatloaf."

"How'd y' know I'd be up by now?"

"Ah didn't, but Ah figured you had to wake up sooner or later. Ah finally decided Ah would put it in now and reheat it for you when you got up."

"Sorry," he sighed, "I didn' mean t' sleep so long."

"Don't worry about it," she said, sounding so completely upbeat, a drastic change from that morning. He eyed her wondering if this meant she'd calmed down about whatever had been bothering her or if she was simply giving him a false sense of security and about to feed him Meatloaf with laxatives in it just to spite his being in bed with a hangover all day.

"Y' been on y' own all day though," he sighed.

"You know me, Remy," she shrugged, "Ah'm a bit of a loner...Ah can stand my own company just fine, don't worry."

"I wanted t' spend the day wit' y' though," he admitted.

"To be honest...it was nice to be on my own for a little bit, walk around, see some things, you know?"

Remy tilted his head, watching her, he felt almost hurt by the thought she'd prefer to be on her own than with him. He supposed as they'd spent weeks together barely out of each others sight that he couldn't blame her for that. His presence was probably becoming rather stifling.

"Ah even manage to pick up some souvinirs to take back to Bayville. Ah hope you don't mind Ah spent some of that cash you gave me for the clothes...the stuff didn't cost a lot...Ah had plenty left."

"Don' worry," he said, "I got plenty in reserve...spend what y' want. If y' need more, jus' ask."

"Ah don't want any more money," she said.

"Look, money is t' be _spent, _not kept on reserve..."

"Says the _millionaire," _Rogue gazed at him, "who had a fucking fortune in reserve," she reminded with a smirk.

"I jus' hadn't gotten around t' spendin' that yet," he responded, watching her every move.

Rogue opened the oven and gazed in; the sweet smell of spices filled his senses. He found it quite hard to imagine her standing making meatloaf from scratch, but the mess of it was all over the kitchen to prove the effort; pieces of diced onion on the floor, the small jars of spices, the jar of honey, a box of blue latex gloves which he assumed she'd used for handling the meat. The whole image of it was strangely perfect, and for a moment, he felt just a little calmer and somewhat happier.

"So..." Remy decided to try and keep the subject light, "Meatloaf, huh?"

"Ah thought, you know, somethin' hearty and comfortin'...and familiar...give our stomachs a rest from all the rich stuff..." she closed the oven. "Ah know you like all this _gourmet _stuff...but Ah know you like comfort food too..."

Remy saw her almost wince, he tried not to let himself feel disheartened that she seemed to think he needed comforting right now. He'd had enough of her pity in Louisiana, the comfort had been nice, but it was time to move on.

"Ah mean...comfort food, you know, when you just need somethin' that's fatty and _messy _and just like home..." she quickly covered.

Remy couldn't ever _remember _having meatloaf cooked for him when he'd lived at Jean-Luc's house. He for a moment contemplated telling her this, but instead, he fell back from the subject, he didn't need the unhappy memories marring this moment. She was _cooking _for him, why ruin it with stories about what that bastard had or had _not _done for him in the time he'd lived there.

"Ah mean..." she seemed to be getting frustrated with herself, her inability to make the conversation light and happy without making him think of other things. "This is the kind of thing we have in Bayville...Hank does a mean meatloaf. So does Jean actually...but _never _tell her Ah said that."

Remy forced a smile, "I may blackmail y' wit' that."

"You dare," Rogue muttered, "Ah don't need miss _goody two-shoes _thinkin' Ah like anythin' of hers."

"It smells good," he confessed, "Bet it's gon' be better than anythin' she can make..."

He hoped he would be able to keep this meatloaf down; he had a feeling that it would only hurt her feelings if his hangover should prevent him from being able to eat and enjoy something she'd clearly put all this effort into.

"And Ah got us a movie to watch," she spoke up, gesturing to the island counter at her back, "Ah don't know what it is or what it's about, but it says it has English subtitles."

"Les Revenents," he said, picking up the DVD, reading it from the cover. "The Returned, more or less," he shrugged. "The kid on the front is creepy as shit," he confessed.

"Yeah," agreed Rogue.

"I'm...guessin' that's why you got it," Remy raised an eyebrow at her.

"You know me well," Rogue gave a vague laugh, "What's it about?"

Remy gaze upon the back, chewing his cheek as he read the plot, he didn't feel the need to repeat it word for word. The more he read, the more it started to disturb him a little. It was ironic, he realised, she'd have to pick _this _on the day he thought he'd seen Jean-Luc in the room.

"It's a show...not a movie. It's about people comin' back from the dead."

"Really? It's about zombies? Is it like a French version of the Walkin' Dead or somethin'? 'Cause Ah kind of like that show..."

"I don' think it's that kind of show...I think they're jus' comin' back as how they was before they died...not wantin' t' eat brains and rip apart people," he said thoughtfully as he read the back of the DVD. "It looks interestin'," he lied.

He'd have rather seen a comedy or an action film tonight rather than a show about _dead people, _after what had just happened in the bedroom. He made himself decide that if she was happy to sit in his company and watch television and _be _with him then he was happy. He'd been wondering if perhaps her interest in him was burning out so he was only going to count it as a blessing at this stage she _wanted _to spend time with him.

"Ah also got us pastries, chips, dips, sodas...everythin' we need to chill out and watch it," she said, moved over to him, she gave a smile that was soft and sweet; he wasn't sure he had _earned _that smile after his sleeping all day and leaving her to her own devices. To his surprise Rogue moved close to him and put her hands gently on his hips, he felt her hesitation about it but he was strangely intrigued by her gesture; it wasn't like her to be the first to bridge the distance between them. She was normally so cagey when it came to any contact.

"Sounds like a nice night in," he admitted, wishing perhaps it hadn't been tonight, when he thought he'd seen something in the bedroom. It hadn't been real...of _course _it hadn't been real...but the thought of it was still hanging around.

"You should shower, get dressed...by the time you're done dinner should be ready..."

Remy put his arms around her waist, gazing at the mess she'd made, wondering what had prompted all of this. It was all so very unexpected and he wanted to be overwhelmed and happy about it while feeling quite cautious and suspicious of it. No one had ever gone to trouble over something for him without _reason _before_. _The gesture made his heart swell yet his stomach knot.

"This...is very sweet of y'...but y' didn' need t' go to so much trouble..." he murmured.

Rogue tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, "isn't this what girlfriends are supposed to do?" she asked.

Remy's heart sank a little. _Girlfriend...not wife. _She was playing the wife all right but she couldn't acknowledge it even for right now. It was the one thing that could have made the night almost perfect regardless of what he'd seen. "Okay, I'll go shower," he broke away from her, "while y' finish up all this."

"Take your time, should be ready in about forty minutes...no rush."

Remy went for a cigarette on the veranda before he decided to do anything else. He had managed to keep himself in check while in Rogue's presence, but entering back into the bedroom again had left him feeling quite uneasy and he couldn't stand being in there alone right now. Outside, watching the sunset light changing the sky to pink and orange, he felt his body beginning to come down from the shock of it all. He tried to focus on Rogue instead.

He tried to focus on how terrible he felt for having wasted an entire day sleeping on the vacation. It seemed such a waste and it was completely unfair to have left her to her own devices while he slept it off. The fact that she'd admitted to _enjoying _her day free of him only made it feel slightly worse; if he hadn't been hungover, perhaps they'd have had a good day together, she'd have not realised so quickly how much better it was to be on her own.

_I'm neglectin' her and it's only gon' drive her further away, _he realised. _Better make sure she enjoys the rest of this vacation, _he told himself angrily, he tossed his cigarette butt into the ashtray on the rail and went to take a brief shower.

In the shower, he scrubbed himself extra hard, feeling a strange sense of shame and disgust, not just in how dreadfully sick he had been that morning, but from the lingering sensations of long ago things he'd _tried _so desperately to forget about. It didn't matter how much soap he'd use though...nothing was going to clean that off. Memories weren't coded into the brain like a computer, they couldn't be wiped...memories were deeply _embossed_, they left marks and bumps that could be _felt _as well as seen.

_That's all it was I saw...some faint embossin', somethin' left from long ago, it's pressed int' my head, that's all it was, _he reasoned with himself.

After his shower, he went back out and stood on the veranda in a towel (still feeling most uneasy about being alone in the bedroom, as if he were being watched almost), smoked another two cigarettes in the attempt to try and bring himself back down completely; his heart was still occasionally skipping a nervous beat; he simply couldn't _help _it.

It was strange, how things he had not thought of in so long came flooding back to him, little insignificant things like the _exact _smell of Jean-Luc's cologne, the poster on the wall in his room he used to look at, the sound the third floorboard on the stair made when Jean-Luc was on his way up. It made him angry that he _couldn't _stop thinking about it now.

Remy groaned at himself. _Stop it. Rogue went t' all this trouble t' cook a nice meal and make things nice f' us. Put on a happy face and stop thinkin' about shit you can't change, _ he warned himself. He went to get dressed, he put on a slightly nicer shirt feeling it only right since he was quite aware the Hawaiian style ones he'd bought annoyed her. If she was going to all _this _effort, then he could make a little himself.

When he returned to the living room, Rogue wasn't in there. He supposed she'd gone to the bedroom to change into sweat pants to get ready for chilling in front of the couch for the remainder of the night to watch TV. There were candles lit all over the villa living room, he realised it was going to make the room much hotter but at this point, but the flames were soothing to look at and he took a moment to admire how pretty it all seemed.

He wandered over to the oven and opened it a little to peer in. The smell of the spice filled his senses again, and he gazed at the meatloaf, the top was glazed, a sticky delicious promise of what was to come...his stomach growled. There was a pan of roasted vegetables below. He found it funny how much he was actually looking forward to this meal more than he had thought he would on the tail end of a hangover.

"You better not be sabotagin' my cuisine, Mr. LeBeau," came a warning from the master bedroom's door.

"Whatever makes y' think I'd do a thing like that Mrs. Lebea-ohhhhh..." he turned and caught sight of her standing with her hip and arm against the door frame wearing a black lace dress that flared around her thighs, her bust fairly high and held up wonderfully by a rather nice fit at the top; her long slim legs were clad in thick black panty-hoes, her feet in the sexiest platform stilettos he was sure he'd ever seen.

Rogue smirked a little, her lids heavy in smoky dark eye shadow, her lips were dark red, full and pouty. Remy sucked in a breath at the sight of her...it was a side of Rogue he had _never _seen before. Far more interesting than the _virginal _vision he had asked her to dress up as the night before.

"What you think?" she asked, she held up her arms and modelled it for him, she _almost _had the confidence to go with the dress, it nearly impressed him just as _much _as the look she'd given herself.

"I think whatever y' paid for the address...they definitely ain' chargin' enough," he chewed the inside of his cheek as he looked her up and down. She was breathtaking, and _surprising. _Suddenly his hangover was old news, already forgotten about. He had to wonder briefly if perhaps he'd fallen asleep again...this might be some kind of dream? Too good to be true...

"C'mon out here," she took his hand and led the way to the veranda outside of the living room, at the wider section where the table was, she'd set up candles and plates, everything looked lovely. She led him to a seat and pulled it out for him, which he found slightly amusing.

"Don' y' need any help with dinner?" he asked.

"No...you just relax, let me do all the work, okay?" she put her hand on his shoulder and forced him to sit.

"Y' get wine t' go with dinner?" he asked as he took his seat, she pushed it in a little for him. God he hoped there was wine, he needed something to help him ease up a little. A couple of good glasses would help tremendously right now.

Rogue hesitated for just an instant, and gave a vague and almost uncomfortable laugh, "No...Ah don't know enough about wine and what would go with meatloaf..." she explained. "Besides, Ah'm not fluent enough like you are to go and _ask_ what to get...besides, I'm sure the guy in the wine store would probably look at me like some sort of _heathen _at the thought of wine bein' paired with a meatloaf..."

"Nice red would go...somethin' with a fruity taste maybe. I can go get a bottle, if y' like, it wouldn' take too long," he offered, "there's a place like ten minutes up the road..."

"We don't need wine," she assured, "we have..." she gestured to an ice bucket on the table, there were cans of soda peeking out of the ice, "Cherry Pepsi Max,"

Remy gazed at the soda can, raising an eyebrow at this.

"It's fruity, ain't it?" she pointed out.

"Yeah..." he supposed.

Rogue pulled a can from the bucket and popped the tab. Remy felt there was a joke somewhere about popping cherries that he could use but he decided to refrain from it, thinking it may displease her and ruin the evening. Rogue picked one of the wine glasses up from the table and filled it from the can.

"In a wine glass..." he said, raising an eyebrow.

"No one said Pepsi Max couldn't go in a wine glass," Rogue reminded.

"The name _wine glass _kind of suggests it, no?" he asked.

"Here," Rogue handed it to him.

Remy took the glass from her, and sniffed at it, "good nose...good year," he commented.

"Yeah, well, at least when the expiration date goes on this, the price doesn't get hiked _up,_" Rogue smacked him on the shoulder playfully, "Who needs wine when you got the next best thing?"

Remy sat there at the table staring at the view of the beach while she went back to finish in the kitchen; the water seemed to be on fire as the sun went down; it should have brought peace to him but he couldn't settle somehow. He'd been forcing it but it was difficult to sit here and try to pretend like everything was all right.

He didn't want her knowing he was feeling like this, he turned to look through the open doors; she was moving around the kitchen a little frantically trying to get everything ready; she was trying so hard. This was _her _vacation and he was ruining it. Being hungover _and _feeling irritable and restless wasn't going to help anything.

_Just relax, everything is fine, just go along with everythin' she wants, keep her happy. Christ knows, y' did it long enough f' Jean-Luc._

There was that thought again, he groaned inwardly. He hadn't wanted to think it but it had just swept in.

"Chere..." he glanced over, "can I help y'?" he asked hopefully, trying to distract himself.

"No, just stay seated...Ah'll do everythin'."

"But-"

"You've made all this effort for the last few days makin' everythin' perfect, restaurants and clothes and everythin'," Rogue spoke up, "it's your turn to sit and have everythin' brought to you."

"I feel kind of lazy jus' sittin' here. I spent the entire day in _bed..."_

"It's a vacation, what's wrong with that?" Rogue asked, "back in Bayville, you won't get to experience much of _that._"

He wished she'd at least left him something to do...set the table, light the candles. Something. She'd taken care of everything, she had everything covered.

_Jesus...she put so much thought int' all this. I'd have never thought she'd do anythin' like this, she don' seem the type t' play housewife. _He supposed it shouldn't surprise him that she would, she'd done enough of it at the house in Louisiana. _That was different, _he reminded himself. _It were all an act. _

Rogue arrived with the plates and she placed his down in front of him before taking her seat.

"Ah hope this turned out okay...Ah've never made this before..."

"Looks incredible," he said gazing down at it, "glaze looks sticky, jus' how I like it."

"There's honey in the glaze," she explained, she cut him a few slices and placed them on his plate.

"Can't have enough sweetness in y' life," he spoke up, trying to sound pleasant and upbeat; he hoped she didn't catch the fact he had to _force _it. He cut a small piece from the meatloaf, trying to pretend that his hands weren't shaking. He tried to focus. _Stop it. She's gonna know somethin' ain' right. _Remy had to admit, for a first attempt at the meatloaf, it was rather good. "Tres magnefique!" he said brightly after swallowing, forcing the enthusiasm. "And this y' first try?"

"Yeah," Rogue tried some of the roasted vegetables, "damn..." she sighed.

"Hmm?"

"The vegetables are still hard..."

"Mine are okay," he lied after testing them himself. The roasted vegetables were slightly underdone; he wasn't going to complain after all this effort.

"Ah cooked them exactly how it said for how long it said..." she sighed, "it should have been perfect."

"It is," Remy promised, "Best meal I ever have."

"You're such a liar, every time we eat _out _you say that," she reminded.

He gave a vague laugh, "okay, let me rephrase it...best meal anyone ever cook special for me..."

Rogue suppressed a smile, her cheeks turned pink and he found it appealing; he wished he could kiss each burning cheek. "Now you're just gushin'."

"Don' sell y' self short. Y' only eighteen, y' got the rest of our lives t' learn how t' make gourmet t' fatten me up wit'."

"Why would I fatten you up?" Rogue took a bite from the meatloaf.

"T' make sure no one else wan' me maybe," he teased.

Rogue frowned, "You keep eating the way you do in those restaurants and Ah won't _need _to."

"Jus' more of me to love," he smirked.

"You want to end up like Blob?" Rogue asked.

"Point taken," he said quietly, "though he could diet all he wants, his weight don't budge."

"You know that for a _fact?"_

"When I spent a bit of time with the Brotherhood, he was always complainin' about his weight, how no girl like him 'cause he had so many rolls of fat. Quicksilver, he _love _t' torment the guy...make fun of him, call him a fat tub of lard...even Pyro get in on that. After a month of watchin' this, I kept blastin' burgers out of his hand every time he got 'em...then tol' him he weren' allowed t' eat anythin' but salad."

"Isn't that a little _cruel_?_" _Rogue asked, looking a little concerned.

"Magneto wanted him t' learn some discipline and self-control. That's why he get me in. He asked me t' bully the team, and t' discipline them. That's what I were bein' paid for, so that's what I did."

"So...you put Blob on a _diet?"_

"Yeah...made him jog, had t' listen t' him cry and bitch about how it _hurt _t' move like that. I had Lance measure him, didn' lose a single pound. And I _watched _him like a hawk, he never deviated from it _once, _I made _sure_...he didn' lose anythin'. His damn powers hung on to every damn pound."

"And Magneto wasn't happy with you?"

"All Magneto wanted me t' do was bully the big guy int' gettin' a bit healthier so he weren't huffin' and puffin' when runnin' and fightin'. The guy didn't lose any weight but he gained a lil' stamina. Magneto was surprised I even managed that out of him."

"How did you meet Magneto?" Rogue asked as she continued eating.

Remy stared down to the table, remembering what had now seemed so long ago. "He heard about me from a client a good while back, way over a year ago...heard I was one of the _best. _ He did a little trackin', askin' around some other people I worked for...He was lookin' f' someone wit' my skills...but they had t' be mutant. He don' like workin' wit' humans...he can't trus' a human like he can one of his own..."

"So he found you?"

"He tracked me down in St. Louis and tol' me how much he'd heard about me...said that I might be the next _Frank Abagnale_ with the shit I was capable of."

"Who?"

"Not important," Remy responded, "he came out with all the spiel about how _powerful _I was, how much more superior I was than the others who did what I did, and how he'd watched me and seen I had the potential t' do somethin' spectacular. He asked me t' join his team...said I could lead, said I'd have free reign t' treat them how I want. At the time, I weren't interested in bein' anythin' special, or leadin', didn' even _need _the money. I had a lot goin' on, I was...in a rut. Said I'd think about it."

Rogue nodded, listening.

"He tol' me what he could do wit' metal...I asked him t' make me a door for my bedroom that would be impenetrable for a human t' get through..." Remy frowned down at the table. "Stop Jean-Luc gettin' in...stealin' my money...my things and sellin' them...stop-" he stopped himself, "Jus' stop the asshole from gettin' in, period," he glanced up at Rogue, seeing her expression shift quickly to one of worry. "Anyway, it were nearly eight months later b'fore I decided t' up and leave again f' good...tracked Magneto int' Bayville and...the rest y' know...or at least y' get the gist of."

Remy drank in the sight of her. She looked so different, so appealing. It wasn't her, he realised that, but he liked it and _appreciated _the effort nonetheless. _She's tryin' so hard t' make me happy, _he thought. _Christ, why am I doin' this? Why did I bring her here t' this place? Why am I bringin' up bad things?_

"So...why the dress?" he asked.

"Ah liked it when Ah saw it in the window," she shrugged, she glanced down at her dress self-consciously. "and...Ah thought you may like it too..."

"I do...it's real classy...sexy even," he dropped his eyes down to her bust, although there was enough modesty, the display was still appealing.

Rogue's cheeks grew pink and she lowered her head, hiding behind her bangs as she went about finishing her meal. It wasn't until they had both cleared their plates that she finally decided to bring up a subject he had known was coming, "Remy...you know when we go back to Bayvile?"

"Mmmhmm?" he asked reluctantly, he really didn't want to discuss Bayville right now. He had enough things to think about right now.

"You thought about if you might go back to school or anythin'?"

"Not really," he replied truthfully, "I ain' cut out for classroom learnin'. I learn from...the school of _life."_

Rogue stood up with the plates in hand, "shame that doesn't get you a _diploma._"

"What I need a diploma for?" he asked, "t' hang on a wall? They make _posters _f' that, chere. I'd get more use out of a titty poster than I would a _diploma."_

_ "_Well..." she began.

"Diplomas are f' people who wan' t' have a _profession. _F' people who wan' t' have a _job. _ Y' see me workin' nine to five in an office somewheres?"

"Well...no," she admitted.

"I got a profession," he reminded, "and it didn' take no _diploma _and _high school learnin' _t' obtain it, either.

Shespoke loudly to him as she went inside to put the plates away and get the desert, "wouldn't you at least like to go to Bayville High for a bit? Be normal like everyone else? Get a little out of bein' a kid before you're _not _one."

"I ain' been a kid for a good while now," he reminded. "I don' think I could go back t' bein' one. Even f' a year."

"Don't you miss high school?"

"Asshole teenagers and cliques? No thanks," he remarked, "I know how they feel 'bout mutants there at Bayville High anyway...I watched _you _unhappy and invisible at high school..."

"You're not like me though," she admitted, "You'd _probably _be popular. They'd find someone like _you _a novelty...you'd have all the girls after you. They'd _worship _the ground you walk on."

"Y' wouldn' be able t' handle that. Y' know what would happen."

"Huh?"

"Well...y'know I got a lot of charm wit' human girls, it jus' comes natural, all the flirtin' and stuff...and y' would always be wonderin' if I was playin' in other fields when y' weren't always with me."

Rogue seemed to re-think this, "you could always finish high school at the mansion...Hank is a teacher, he'd _help _you..."

"I'd rather jus' do somethin' constructive. Learnin' isn't really my _forte._ Trainin' on the other hand is somethin' I can sink my teeth int'...maybe I can help with chores or somethin'. They got a lot of chores there, don't they?"

"It's just...the Professor is really big on education...he might insist you look into something." Rogue returned with a plate of pastries.

"Why insist?" he asked, he ran his finger absently over the rim of his glass.

"Ah guess so you're prepared for a normal life if you should decide to retire...so you have opportunities."

"What kind of opportunities a guy like me gon' have?" he forced a chuckle, "I weren' cut out for the _normal _life."

"Just...know he may insist, that's all," Rogue took her seat.

"Guess I'll cross that bridge if and when I come t' it," he shrugged.

"Just think about it, please."

"Why?" he tilted his head, "Y' _ashamed _o' the fact I only got half a high school education or somethin'?" he asked bluntly.

"Of course not," she responded quickly, her expression seemed hurt.

"Y' think people gon' look at me...y' think y' _friends _gon' look at me and say I talk slow so I mus' be a redneck wit' a limited vocabulary and a poor education?"

"No," Rogue frowned. "Remy, you're smarter than half the _teachers _Ah have. "You're bilingual, you're really good with numbers, you can read people like a book...you do all this magic stuff that _proves _you have a lot of logic and ability to plan ahead and manipulate how people think..."

"Speakin' o' magic..." He didn't want to discuss the matter any further. He needed a distraction. "Wan' see a magic trick?"

"No," Rogue shook her head, her brow furrowing a little as she took her seat. He wondered what it was about his magic tricks she found so unappealing. She'd been quite impressed their first night when he'd made her phone appear in a wine bottle.

"Jus' one?" he asked.

"How about Ah show _you _one?" she asked, which he found was a rather surprising suggestion from her.

"Okay," he shrugged.

"Ah'm gonna make...this pastry...disappear," she picked up an eclair, and forced the entire thing quite messily into her mouth.

Remy choked on the glass of pepsi he had been taking a sip of; it wasn't the _joke _that had made him choke on the drink, but the accidental _suggestiveness _of the act which left him thinking of oral sex. He looked away, surprised his cheeks flushed hot at the thought of that.

Any other night it might have been funny...might have been rather _encouraging. _ Right now...Jesus, he had too many unhappy things going on in his head right now to see this without his thoughts going to the wrong place.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, jus' the bubbles caught the back of my throat," he coughed.

Rogue wiped her mouth with a napkin, "you want me to get you some water?"

"I'm fine," he cleared his throat, "your magic sucks, by the way."

* * *

Rogue wasn't certain that her distraction was really working. She could still see he was suffering the tail end of a hangover, his face sagged, he seemed almost ten years older tonight. She could tell he was still putting up with the headache a little, as when the television had come on at what she had felt was a reasonable volume, he had winced and asked her to put the volume down (she'd said she could barely hear it once she did put it down but he'd pointed out that why did she need to _hear _it if there was subtitles?).

As she slipped the DVD into the player, she caught his reflection in the plasma LED television; she saw it _clearly. _He was somewhere else, he had been in and out of that since he'd awakened.

_Logan was right, he isn't okay, _she thought dully, examining the dark reflection of Remy who was sitting on the couch. _He said not to trust it, and surprise surprise, he was right. _

Rogue felt like rolling her eyes at herself. She hadn't trusted it from the get go either. She'd known something was wrong from day one, they'd barely buried Jean-Luc, of course Remy wasn't going to be fine. It didn't matter how _bad _the man had been and how _much _in Remy's opinion (and her own, much to her guilt) he had _deserved _to die in some regards...the man had in some way still been the only father Remy had ever known.

He didn't even have the comfort of his so-called brother to help him get over the grief of this. He had no one but her, and she wasn't sure about the first thing to help someone get over the death of another. Distraction was the only tactic she had to work with tonight.

They settled in front of the television to watch the DVD and Rogue decided to make the bolder move of sidling up beside him and pushing her body into his. If he needed something to distract him, she supposed her closeness might do it. He had always seemed to enjoy being near her in the past, she supposed now that they were _together _in some sense (as much as they could be) she should be making more _effort _to get close to him, even if it was just settling against him on the couch.

Remy didn't seem to be all that interested in the DVD series she'd picked once it had started. He had his eyes somewhere in the vicinity of the television but as far as she could tell he wasn't _focused. _He was lost, his expression troubled. How was she supposed to get him to stop thinking about whatever he was thinking of?

_Don't let him think about anything else, Rogue, _she chided herself.

She was losing him, he quietly sighed, she just _barely _caught it. She pushed herself in closer to him, pressing her head against his chest not quite sure if it was serving to distract him or not. His heart was racing against her cheek but there was something strangely off and uneven about it. His fingers skimmed her back in an almost absent fashion, but she could tell he wasn't quite into the moment.

What was it? What was wrong? She'd had the feeling since he'd awakened that he wasn't himself, he was putting on the same face he had since they had left Louisiana but there was something right now that was just _off. _He was like a picture that was slightly crooked as if someone had bumped into it and it just wasn't hanging right, or like an ornament that had been moved slightly from the place it always sat...it didn't look right where it was.

He was all off and she could just sense it; it reminded her of how he had been at the funeral, so sombre and quiet.

_If Ah ask if he's okay, then he'll know Ah _know _he's not, and it's going to get awkward, _she realised. She circled a gloved finger lightly over his stomach, she'd almost thought for a minute that would have driven him to distraction enough but he didn't say or do anything, he had no reaction, his stomach didn't even slightly twitch at her touch. Briefly she considered moving her hand down, just to see what his reaction may be but she wasn't sure right now it would help.

She moved from his chest, sweeping her hair out of her face and gazing at him in the darkened room, in the flickering candle light on the coffee table she could see distance in his dark eyes. Rogue brushed his hair from his forehead, looking at him with the most tender gaze she could manage. _Come on, Remy, Ah'm tryin', _she thought desperately.

It hurt to see him like this, it hurt that she didn't know how to _fix him. _

_ He can't be fixed, he's not a broken toy, he's goin' through some major shit right now, _she told herself angrily. _It isn't a case of just patching him up. It doesn't work like that._

She moved her hand behind his head, let her lace-gloved fingers brush gently against his right ear; it was the first thing she'd done that seemed to have actually gotten his attention. He turned to look at her, his gaze soft and tired.

With all her might, she tried to give him her softest smile; she just hoped it didn't come off as _creepy _or disturbing. He searched her eyes for a moment, he seemed to shake himself from whatever reverie he'd been in.

"Y' look stunnin' y' know."

Normally, she'd have had to rebuke the compliment, she hated it when he talked like this about her as had never particularly felt pretty before. She had to force herself to accept the compliment, her cheeks burning a little more with the embarrassment of accepting it than the modesty, "do Ah?"

"Yeah..." he sniffed a little and rubbed his nose absently, "Y'...look too good for us t' jus' be sittin' around here like this."

"Huh?"

"We...shoul' go out," he decided, he picked up the remote and switched the television off abruptly, "we shoul' go t' a nightclub."

"But-"

"C'mon. Lets go dancin'. Have some fun..."

"Remy..." she tried, thinking of how much effort she'd put into this and how it had all been for nothing.

"I'll go phone us a cab..." he said, standing up, "freshin' up y' make up or anythin' y' need t' do...we can be gone shortly."

"But-"

Remy disappeared off to the second bedroom to retrieve his phone, Rogue stared after worriedly.

_It's time to call Logan, _she thought, she stood up with a sigh and headed to the kitchen where she'd left her phone. She stopped herself midway, shaking her head at herself. _No...don't call. Logan expects you to call, expects it all to go bad...expects you can't handle Remy now just like you couldn't when his daddy died. You came here with him, you knew what to expect. You knew somewhere that if you came here you'd be taking responsibility for him...you _have _to try and pull him together and get him through this...or just be there for him. If he wants to go dancin', go dancin'. Let him take his mind off things however he can...there's only four days left, he'll get all the right kind of help when we get back...in the meantime, just let him cope with it however he thinks he should...just make sure he doesn't get into trouble._

She wasn't sure if this was a good approach; she couldn't exactly lock him into the villa and she wasn't about to knock him out with her powers just to keep him from having a couple of drinks to drown his sorrows.

Besides, when he drowned his sorrows, he seemed to feel better, was that such a bad thing? She was sure Logan would tell her it was but then Logan wasn't _there._

_Logan would think Ah'm bein' irresponsible, that Ah should be direct with Remy and tell him to man up and deal with it, _Rogue thought. Right now, she wasn't sure the direct approach was what was going to work. Not tonight anyway.

She decided that she'd let him have tonight, tomorrow, she'd say something. He was clearly upset, he needed a distraction and she wasn't able to provide a better one.

Or was she?

Rogue headed towards the second bedroom to find him, she hung around the open door, watching as he spoke in his impeccable French with the taxi firm. When he ended the call he turned around, catching sight of her in the door.

"It be about twenty minutes," he said.

"Do...we have to go out?" she asked, she tried her best to sound sultry, she stepped forward, hoping she wasn't wobbling too much in her platform stilettos which she was not all that proficient in walking in. She adjusted her posture just a little to make sure her breasts seemed to jut out a little more, her walk slightly more sultry in the heels, she wondered if that would be _enough _to back her up.

"It'd be nice t' get ont' the dance floor wit' y'...have some fun."

"Isn't it fun here?" she asked, she moved further towards him.

"Can watch the DVDs tomorrow," he supposed, he put the phone down.

She approached, trying to muster all the confidence she had; she pushed her hands lightly against his chest and led him backwards towards the bed just as she _thought _he might have liked. "Ah'm not talkin' about the _DVDs_, sugar..."

He looked down at her, the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed but he didn't give in to her lead. "Oh," was all he said, he shifted his eyes from her to the open patio doors, he seemed strangely lost for a moment.

"We got everythin' we need here..."

"It'll be here for us when we get back," he took her by the shoulders gently, he _forced _a dazzling smile. She actually saw his forcing it, it looked almost _painful._

It was when she knew something was really wrong right then when he _couldn't _be distracted with this. It was what she'd _thought _he'd want. Everything from the way she looked to the way she had tried to lead him to the bed. He didn't. The past few nights he'd come on strong, but in the end it was _him _who was resisting. At that moment she wondered if perhaps she were being insensitive...perhaps this wasn't the right move to make on someone who had suffered abuse and who had recently had to _admit _it.

Rogue thought of her move on Remy in the car the day after they'd arrived in Louisiana, when she'd pushed her hand into his pants, her cheeks flushed even thinking of how he'd _rejected _the idea much to her disgrace. At the time it had made no sense that he would behave that way...it hadn't been until the truth had come out about Jean-Luc at the funeral that it _had._

She felt immediately foolish for such a tactic, she felt bad for feeling rejected and even worse for being forward. "Sorry," she sighed softly.

"For?"

She lowered her eyes to the floor, her cheeks flushing hot, "Ah never seem to be good at gettin' the timin' right when it comes to this stuff..."

He rubbed her shoulders, "y' timin' is fine...everythin' y' doin' is perfect..." he said, it sounded like a promise, she _knew _it was all lies. "I jus'...think it'd be nice t' get out, make the most of our time t'gether here. I'd like t' dance wit' y'...have a good time..."

"But..."

"It'll be fun...trust me," he smiled again.

Rogue knew better than to trust him by now.

* * *

**End of Part Five**

* * *

**Dun dun dunnnnnnn. Wow this was a slightly-longer-than-usual chapter. Thanks to all who took the time review. Thanks for the headsup about the fact the story didn't have any characters highlighted (or whatever the explanation was). I KNOW I chose the characters when I set the story up but for some reason it didn't take. Hopefully, that's remedied now and everyone gets notifications, etc.**

**Thanks to heartbreaklane who really helped me with sorting out some of the order of the chapters, lol. I almost scrapped a lot (especially when I re-wrote this and parts 6 and 7 about five times each). It helped tremendously. **

**Hope you all have a super weekend, I'm off for a nap as I've been working on editing this part for days now, lol.**


	6. Part 6

**Trouble in St. Tropez**

**Part Six**

* * *

The club Remy had chosen to take her to was packed with young people, bodies swaying and twisting to pulsating music, lights splashing and cutting colourful streams across a moody dark hall.

Rogue managed to say something, her voice was weak, not even audible over the loud bass of the music.

"What?" asked Remy, leaning close and straining to hear her.

"Ah said it's a _lot _of skin..." she said loudly.

He gazed at her, examining her long sleeves of her lace dress, the thick pantihose, the gloves. Her face was the only problem and as long as she was careful, he was sure she would be safe. He was sure _everyone _would be safe. It was like her to worry, but he felt it unnecessary all the same. He wished just for _once _she could loosen up and just go along with things.

"Don' worry," he said loudly near her ear, "as long as y' keep y' face away from people's hands and arms y' be fine."

"What if someone _elbows _me? A lot of people here are wavin' their arms around like mad! Some people are taller than me; those guys don't even have shirts on!"

"Jus' be careful," he touched her shoulder lightly, "I'm gon' get us some drinks. Go see if y' can find us a table."

He hated that he'd come here tonight. He normally loved the atmosphere of these clubs, but then, that had been when he had been single, looking for the next _challenge_, a place to lay down until morning. These places were meat markets, not much else. _Y' jus' don' get a good cut of steak and look t' the nearest butcher f' a cheap cut in substitution, _he reminded himself. _Y' don't need t' be in places like this no more._

But there was a lot of distraction in places like this, music, dancing, alcohol, beautiful women. He _needed _to be distracted right now. Ever since yesterday he'd been thinking of Jean-Luc but tonight, he just couldn't get him out of his head.

Even Rogue's rather poor attempt at seduction (although appreciated nonetheless) hadn't been enough. In fact, her timing had been lousy, just as that one time in the car. He had wished as hard as he could while they were there together on the couch that he could feel vaguely interested. Too much was going on in his mind and her timing was terrible.

He hated that he felt almost guilty for gently rejecting her in the bedroom. He wouldn't have been able to explain to her right at that moment there was no way he would be able to loosen up enough for the kind of activity _she _was thinking of with the thought of Jean-Luc...with _memories _of him still hanging around. Those kind of things stuck on to his mind like thick molasses, like images stamped into steel, they could never be rinsed or buffed away, not even by Rogue's advances.

It struck him right then how _odd _her advance had been compared to her behaviour only days before. She'd seemed rather stand-offish when it came to any of _his _even subtle approaches to be romantic let alone anything else. _Wish she'd make up her mind, don't know exactly what I'm supposed t' feel or do around her these days, _Remy thought dully, getting restless as he stood amongst the mass of people hanging around the bar to get served drinks. After waiting for ten minutes, he was finally served and he made the decision then and there to get a tray of drinks rather than spend another ten minutes there when the first two drinks were gone. It seemed a waste of time.

Holding onto his tray, he glanced around for Rogue, feeling slightly anxious when it took much longer to find her than he had anticipated. He wondered for one moment if she'd had enough and gone, if she'd gotten distressed with all this half-naked flesh exposed and panicked, run out and gone home.

_Maybe I should have thought this through, _he clenched his teeth as he walked back and forth across the large hall, weaving in and out of dancing bodies and people hanging around flirting with each other. Eventually, his eyes caught her only by chance as he'd moved out of the way to let someone pass him. She'd found a small table to the back of the club, it was slightly out of the way and behind a thick stone pillar.

He moved to the table and put the tray of drinks down, his anxiety levels dropping a little now that he'd found her. The thought of being ditched there hadn't sat well.

"You were gone so long," Rogue said, her eyes seemed to be almost full of worry as she sat there on the high stool, her hair slightly hanging in her face. She had that nervous look about her like a high school wallflower at prom.

"Couldn' find y'," he answered, "take y' long t' find the table?"

"Not really...Ah don't think many people sit back here..." she glanced around, from where they were sat they couldn't see much. Remy thought she was probably wrong, there was a lot of privacy at this table, they _could _have been up to anything in the corner just beyond the table, no one would have known. Rogue's eyes dropped to the tray, expression rather critical, "why so many drinks?"

"Bar is packed, ain' no way I'm gonna finish a shot in two seconds and go standin' there for another ten minutes jus' t' get the next," he commented, he put a cocktail down in front of her.

"What is this?"

"Rose Noir," he smirked, "_Black Rose..._I thought y' migh' appreciate the effort t' go wit' y' gothic thing."

"Funny...Ah suppose Ah should be thankful you didn't get a _Black Dahlia," _she made a face.

"What's a Black Dahlia?" he asked.

"You've seriously never heard of the Black Dahlia?" Rogue gave a vague laugh; she had a look on her face of such disbelief that he wondered if perhaps this Black Dahlia thing was some kind of huge craze that _everyone _had heard of and something he _should _know.

"Never...what is it? Some kind of roofie'd cocktail?" raised an eyebrow at her.

She laughed again, a throaty laugh, eyes glittering, "have you been livin' under a rock or somethin'?"

"Uhm...huh?"

"It's as famous as Jack the Ripper..."

"It is?"

"She was a wannabe actress in the late forties who was murdered," Rogue explained, she pushed her straw around her drink.

Remy picked one of the shots up from the tray and knocked it back, "I see."

"What is that?" she asked, gesturing to his empty shot glass.

"Tequila," he blinked, he'd never liked it all that much, but the bottle had caught his eye behind the bar while he'd been trying to make a decision on what to drink; he'd stood there waiting to be served for ten minutes and yet somehow hadn't even decided upon what he wanted until getting there. It had struck him at that moment that tonight his mind was such a mess that he needed something _potent. _This stuff certainly tasted potent, he was almost certain his _breath _would catch alight after he'd swallowed it.

Rogue pushed her cocktail aside to his surprise and picked out one of the seven remaining shots on the tray. He gaped as she put it to her lips and tipped her head back, she coughed a little and slammed the glass down, her eyes seeming to water.

"Y' okay?"

"It _burns,_" she coughed hard, she pressed the front of her fist to her mouth.

"Yeah...it would do straight...this ain' a particularly good tequila, shouldn' be that hot on the way down," he muttered.

She sipped upon the cocktail, which she seemed to find more agreeable, "this place is packed," she said, leaning awkwardly to look around the pillar at his back to see out to the dance floor.

"Don' worry, y' gon' be fine," he picked up a second shot.

Rogue watched him, her expression darkened for just a moment, she put the cocktail down and took a second, she raised an eyebrow at him as he sat there poised with his near his lips.

Curiously, he knocked it back, and watched her expectantly. He didn't expect her to drink another.

"Y' gon' make yourself sick."

"You're one to talk," she sipped her cocktail to get rid of the taste and the burning sensation.

"I got a tolerance."

Rogue raised an eyebrow at him again, something told him she highly doubted this claim. "Ah wanna see what the big fuss is all about."

"The big fuss?" he asked. He refrained from reaching for a third shot for the moment, he had a feeling she would simply match him drink for drink. This wasn't a good game to be playing when she wasn't used to drinking.

"Gettin' drunk," she commented, "that stuff is _vile _by the way."

"Then don't drink it," Remy suggested. He'd always wondered what she'd be like drunk, but tonight he thought the better of _letting _her get that way or encouraging it. There was something slightly different about her, this past three days she'd been different, he couldn't pinpoint why.

_Maybe she always was this way and I've just been too caught up in what was goin' on in my life t' notice, _he thought dully.

"Y' wanna dance?" he asked.

"Not right now," she shook her head, "Not sure Ah even know _how..."_

"Sure y' pick it up once y' get the gist of what the other girls doin'."

Rogue looked at him strangely, "would you _like _it if I danced like them?_"_

_ "Maybe," _he shrugged. He wasn't sure if watching her dance like that would do him any good in the way of distraction tonight but anything was worth a try.

"You don't think it's slutty?" Rogue looked critically at the women dancing, her face dark.

"It's not slutty," he said, he paused to think, "think of it as...a matin' dance to some of those people...y' know?"

"A matin' dance..." she looked thoroughly confused.

"Yeah...it ain' that different from nature really. Birds for example."

"How so?"

"Birds...they show their plumage...they do little dances, they sing songs...all in the name of attractin' a mate."

"Ah don't think doin' a matin' dance is gonna do me much good tonight," she muttered, and Remy thought to ask what she meant but the way she looked away from the dancers and directly into her drink made him give up the subject.

In the interest of trying to keep conversation going, he thought of a different approach, something she _was _interested in perhaps. "So...tell me more about this murdered actress..."

Rogue straightened up a little, the subject was something _she _knew, something _she _could talk about and that seemed to switch her on a little, "Well...it was in L.A., the forties...and she was this dark haired actress, kind of pretty. She was found severed in half at the waist by the side of some street, her face cut ear to ear...whoever did it cut off part her chest...he hacked up her uhm..." Rogue faltered.

"_Vagina?" _Remy asked.

Rogue gave a nod, "he really ripped her up bad."

"Sounds like Jack the Ripper retired to L.A.," Remy admitted, staring into a tequila shot glass. "They ever catch who did it?"

"Never," Rogue said. "I mean...there were a _hell _of a lot of suspects but the case was handled _so _badly and the press got too involved and it just...well, they never caught the guy."

"Never caught the ripper either," Remy said, looking distant.

"Or the Zodiac," she chimed in.

"Don't know that one," Remy responded, he ran his finger along the rim of one of the shot glasses absently. "Y' know...it's kind of funny in a way."

"Funny..." she repeated, looking confused.

"Yeah."

Rogue took a sip of her cocktail, her eyes on his, "Ah don't get what you mean..."

"You and me, we got _no _idea of our real origins...I mean...we coul' be related t' those people f' all we know."

She laughed strangely, a little vague and confused, she didn't seem to agree with that observation.

"I coul' be the great grandson or somethin' of that girl's murderer...we'd never know."

"Would it matter?" Rogue asked.

"Well, maybe," he shrugged. "I mean...Ten years down the line...who knows, some kind of thing could kick in and I could get the urge t' kill someone jus' like that. Butcher up some pretty young actress...some prostitute in a dark alleyway jus' 'cause it took my fancy."

"Does the thought take your fancy _now?"_ Rogue looked strangely fascinated and yet oddly appalled at the same time.

"No, but who's to say I won't in ten years time if some kind of thing kicks in? Somethin' that was in my real family."

Rogue's expression was troubled, "It doesn't matter who your family are or were...or where you came from...doesn't mean anythin'...doesn't mean _you'll _be like them," she replied.

"Some things are genetic," he shrugged. "Mental conditions..."

"Not always."

"What about conditionin'?" he asked, "the kind of things y' see or...have had to put up with when y' a kid gets so conditioned int' y' that y' eventually end up bein' that way y'self when y' grow up?"

"No..." Rogue shook her head.

"How y' explain people turnin' out like their parents all the time...?"

"Are you trying to make a point with this?" Rogue asked, looking quite alarmed.

"Was jus' an observation is all," Remy shrugged. "Jus' observation."

Rogue tried to ease off of the subject, "Do...you wonder about them a lot?"

"About my parents? My _real _parents?"

"Yeah," she answered, "Ah mean...do you ever think what they might have been like?"

"Who are they t' me but a sperm and a nine month oven t' bake in?" he remarked.

Rogue chewed her lip, gazing at him.

"I always figured I was some one's prom night dumpster baby," he responded, "Probably born in a toilet somewhere in a high school. Daddy was probably a quarter back 'roid freak and momma was probably a prom queen with her legs open t' any guy who could make her popular."

"You've never thought about looking?"

"Why would I _want _to?" he snorted, "they certainly never looked for me. What about _you, _chere? Your parents..."

"Ah wonder," she shrugged. "If Ah was wanted...if Ah was _normal._ If Ah _killed _my momma on the way out and that's why Ah was abandoned. Ah don't remember anythin' of my early childhood...my earliest memories are of bein' with Irene..."

"Irene loved y'," Remy said, "genuinely."

"How would you know that?" Rogue asked softly.

"The way y' speak about her; the things she did for y', the sacrifice she made, the time she spent bringin' y' up. Y' might have ended up with her for the _wrong _reasons jus' like I ended up where I did, but at least the difference is y' had _real _love...y' were genuinely cared for, regardless of y' usefulness," he admitted. He decided to drop the subject there, it was bringing him too close to other unhappy things.

They finished their tequilas, Rogue looking positively _green _by the time she'd had the fourth and final one, _and _her cocktail. After much coercing, Remy convinced her to dance with him and they left to go to the dance floor. The four tequilas weren't _nearly _enough to give him a buzz but Rogue, however, was swimming with four tequilas and a rather strong cocktail. He was positive _she _had a buzz. It wasn't long on the dance floor before she started to loosen up a little and started to _try _to dance. The girl had not been lying about her dancing skills...or lack of. She had absolutely no rhythm, but the more she danced, the less she seemed to care, and it didn't seem like anyone else did either. He certainly didn't.

Sweating, and tired after a long stretch on the floor, Rogue excused herself to go find a bathroom and he went to the bar to get the next tray of drinks. He realised much to his disappointment, he wasn't going to be able to drink himself to distraction tonight as he had _last _night. Rogue was too much of a responsibility. If she was going to get drunk then he _couldn't, _someone had to be level headed, someone had to be sober enough to at least make sure they got home safely. He only got four drinks this time, two beers for himself, which he _doubted _were going to make him drunk and two cocktails for her, which he hoped wouldn't completely floor her.

It was some time before she returned from the ladies bathroom and managed to find their new table, her cheeks still flushed bright pink from the dancing, her hair slightly frizzy from the humidity. She climbed up onto the stool, "there was a huge line in there."

"Yeah, I figured there would be, y' were gone for nearly ten minutes," he put her cocktails in front of her.

"No more tequilas?" she asked, looking vaguely tired as she picked up a drink.

"I figured the cocktails be easier on y'," he stated_._ He thought about saying to her that he didn't want her matching him drink for drink, or her ending up sick; he refrained from opening his mouth on the subject for fear of starting some kind of argument.

_ "_Why don' we just finish this drink then go back to the villa?" she asked, she touched his arm. "It's gettin' kind of crowded."

"It's fine, don' worry, nothin's gon' happen. It'll close in another hour or so, time gon' fly. Finish these, then we can dance a lil' more...y' havin' fun, right?"

She seemed to sigh in response, "yeah..." Rogue held the straw and took a long sip, he could tell the dancing and the heat of the place had made her thirsty, he wondered if perhaps he should have had her drinks watered down. No...what he _should _have done was gotten something non-alcholic, tried to pass it off as alcohol...she was so innocent about these things she'd probably never know.

_Wolverine would _kill _me if he thought I was lettin' her drink, _he realised dully, suddenly feeling quite regretful. _He tol' me t' take care of her...I ain' doin' a very good job._

They talked (as best they could over the loud music) for a while over their drinks, Rogue finished hers rather quickly, he saw the glaze in her eyes, it was working on her, she was slightly unsteady in her seat. He wished he'd taken note of just _what _had been put in those cocktails, he'd assumed it would have been a single shot of something and ninety-percent juice, but it seemed to be much stronger than that.

Gazing out over the dancing women, Rogue's expression was dark, curious, and she said rather loudly to him, "Can Ah ask somethin'?"

"If y' like," he shrugged.

"Is this the kind of place you'd come?"

"Huh?" he asked, leaning over to hear her.

"When you're tryin' to get _fucked."_

Remy was surprised by the bluntness of the question. He stared at her, trying to gauge the best way of answering. His senses were slightly dulled by the alcohol and his troubles so he only managed a vague response, "maybe. Used t' be. Not any more."

Her eyes carried over the women, "who would you pick?"

"Pardon?"

"If you were goin' home with someone tonight, who'd you pick?"

"You, obviously," he said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. What kind of game was this? Was she testing his loyalty? His _commitment? _Any other answer would surely result in an argument and a breakup. Definitely had to be a test.

"Over _all _the women in this place...if you didn't know me...no way."

"Sure I would."

"Don't lie..."

He stared at her, thinking for a moment, "first momen' I saw you, I knew there was somethin' about y'. Somethin' that just caught me. Who's t' say that wouldn' happen if we didn' meet the way we did?" he asked. "Who's t' say if y' weren' across the room, stranger t' me, I wouldn' be totally and utterly caught in y' pull..."

"Ah don't have a pull."

"Of course y' do..." he tilted his head curious at her, "Y' got no idea how much pull y' have over me..."

"If that were true...we wouldn't be here, Remy..." her expression was full of frustration.

"What are y' talkin' about?"

"You know what Ah'm talkin' about..."

"No...I don't..." he raised an eyebrow at her.

"You can't even...handle the thought of it, can you?"

"Can't handle the thought of _what?"_

"Me..."

"Pardon?"

Rogue shook her head at him, "forget it," she slipped down from the stool drunkenly and took off in the direction of the nearest exit, starting to cut her way through people.

Remy took off after her, sighing. He definitely wasn't in the mood for this tonight, but it seemed like _she _was. "Marie!"

"Don't," she smacked his hand away from her as he caught her arm and tried to stop her, she took off in a jog, pushing through people and heading for the exit.

Remy caught up and stopped her, "what the hell is wrong with you?"

"You don't even _want _to spend time alone with me! Every time we're alone all you want to do is go out...anywhere we _can't _be alone!" she snapped loudly over the music. "All you want to do is be out and _drink. _And it's the _only _time you even _want _me!_"_

He opened his mouth to say something, but she had turned again attempting to walk away from him, bumping into someone, the man in front of her had been carrying drinks and it splashed everywhere, onto her, onto Remy, and onto himself. He let out a furious yell of "What the fuck!", he stood there with his face bright red, the half empty lager glasses in his hands.

Remy couldn't believe it was him again...the British man who had caused Rogue to pour coffee over herself the day before. He stood there, feeling oddly numb, panic jolting through every vein until he felt cold with it despite the overwhelming thick sweaty heat in the club.

"Bloody hell, not you again," muttered the Brit, soaked in lager, it was dripping from the front of his shirt.

Rogue stood, dripping with alcohol, her expression strangely blank, "Ah'm sorry..." she stammered.

"Mutants," muttered the Brit, _"_always the same in _every _country..._always _getting in the fucking way. Always making trouble!"

"Ah'm sorry...Ah-" Rogue tried again.

"Sorry?" the Brit fumed, "this shirt cost me two hundred fucking quid!"

"Ah can pay for it to be clean-" she tried nervously; she was suddenly like a little girl. Remy had _expected _her to take her usual ballsy attitude but instead, she became shy and inferior, she _let _the British man talk to her like she was trash. He couldn't fathom why.

"Just get the fuck away from me, cunt!"

Remy gaped at him, it might have been some random person on vacation, but it was _Jean-Luc's face _staring at him, the same furious expression, and for a moment, he almost heard his voice. He heard _Jean-Luc _insulting Rogue. Jean-Luc could get away with insulting _him _all he wanted, but when it came to Rogue, the line was crossed. Something snapped; Remy simply couldn't help himself. Throwing Rogue aside, he grabbed a hold of the man, thrust him into the nearby pillar and threw his right fist into the guy's face with more brutal force than he realised he'd meant to, he was almost certain he felt the nose break beneath his knuckles.

It seemed a blur, he heard nothing, he _saw _nothing but red. There was chaos everywhere but all he could focus on was beating up _Jean-Luc._ He wasn't sure what happened in between the first punch and the last. It wasn't until he was being dragged by several bouncers kicking and yelling at the top of his lungs (he couldn't even remember what he'd yelled two seconds after yelling it!) that he had begun to come to his senses again, the guy was lying on the floor, dazed, people trying to pull him up, his fass a mess of blood, already starting to swell. Remy could see him disappearing behind crowds of people.

Rogue was running after them, looking pasty, tripping and stumbling on her heels as she tried to catch up. She looked frantic, he heard her cry his name, tried to appease to the bouncer.

Remy hit the pavement outside with a hard thud, he felt his shoulder slam against the stone and he let out a grunt of pain; he glanced up just in time to see the fire exit doors at the back of the club slamming shut hard. He supposed he should be thankful that he hadn't been dragged somewhere to wait for the police...not that he couldn't have fought his way out before the police had even got there. _Could have bought my way out, money buys silence most places, _ he thought.

He gazed up from the odd angle he was lying just in time to see Rogue hunching over, a burst of vomit exploding from her mouth as she stood beneath a lamp post a couple of feet away, she gripped onto it, making a god awful retching sound as it came out.

Getting up slowly, wincing in pain, he made his way to her and tried to touch her back, she thrust him away with one hand angrily.

"Don't!" she warned, in the orangey light she looked positively green, shining with sweat, her mouth trembling. She hunched over again, another burst of vomit coming out. She leaned against the post shakily, stood there breathing hard for a moment.

"Y' okay...?" He asked worriedly.

"Do Ah _look-" _she began, another burst escaped, she held herself up, gasping afterwards. While waiting for it to pass, she muttered. "what the fuck were you thinkin'?"

"I..." he began.

"You could-" she tried to refrain from letting herself vomit, "-have _killed _him!"

"I only _punched _him..."

"Punched him-" she retched but nothing came up, "you lay into-" a small dribble of vomit came out, she spat afterwards, "-him. You were kickin' him, draggin' him around! You slammed his _head _against the floor...you were _vicious, Remy..._"

Remy stared at her, remembering _none _of this. He'd fought with strangers before, but he'd never been _that _brutal. Not unless things were _life or death._

_ "_I..." he began, not sure how to even explain himself, he moved over again, he tried to touch her, to calm her down.

"Don't!" she warned again, "Just don't touch me right now..." she warned, "Just call a cab," she commanded, "Ah wanna go home."

Remy couldn't help but think as he pulled the phone from his pocket that when she said she wanted to go home she did _not _mean their luxury villa.

Remy's head was thumping again by the time the cab had come; they had sat on the edge of the pavement for almost fifteen minutes, Rogue in stages of being sick, groaning and trying to breathe the nausea out of her system.

The cab driver was talkative during the ride back to the villa and Remy found it extremely hard to concentrate, sometimes mixing up words and translations, although usually it was second nature.

He felt hungover all over again and he hadn't even had enough to feel that way. It wasn't until he was sitting in the back of the cab that the shoulder he'd landed on had begun to hurt quite a bit. The only thing to look forward to getting back to the Villa for was the promise of putting ice upon it.

They had to stop twice during the journey so Rogue could throw up a little at the side of the road; at least Remy had it to be thankful that she had _not _vomited in the cab.

Rogue said nothing all through the journey other than their two vomiting rest stops. She just sat there looking queasy, stiletto heels sitting in her lap, vomit on the front of her pretty black dress. She stank of vomit and lager, and expensive perfume that Remy hadn't even noticed on her since their _wedding day. _It bothered him that he hadn't noticed until now.

While he paid the cab driver upon arrival, Rogue darted out of the cab and ran up the steps with the key to open the door; the way she had groaned on her struggle to get the door open suggested to him that she was going to throw up again. Remy followed a moment later, sighing quietly to himself as he removed the key from the door (that Rogue had left still in the lock) and went inside.

He locked the front door, not sure why he should bother as all night the patio doors leading down to the beach tended to be open all night anyway. From the bathroom, he could hear Rogue vomiting again and he winced.

_Should have never gone out, _he realised with a deep unhappy sigh. _Should have never let her get drunk...should have jus' stayed in like she mentioned..._

Life was full of a lot of 'should haves' and 'shouldn't haves'. The problem was he never seemed to be able to predict which ones would lead to these kinds of problems.

He moved towards his bedroom and gazed through the open bathroom door at Rogue hanging over the toilet. She was a mess now, somehow her pantyhose had gotten torn (probably from falling in her heels on the way out), her hair was a mess of sweaty damp tendrils, and as she gazed up to look at him, her makeup was smeared, running and her face – still looking somewhat green – was shining with sweat.

"Y' okay?" he asked sheepishly.

"What you think?" she managed weakly, she turned towards the toilet and retched but nothing came up. She spat into the toilet, leaning there, breathing hard. He tried to go over to move her hair out of her face but she simply rejected him. "Don't."

Shaking his head, he walked stubbornly out of the bathroom; it had been the eighth time since they had left the club that she'd rejected him. Twice outside of the club, the third when he'd tried to help her into the cab, fourth and fifth during the first vomit stop, sixth and seventh during the _second _vomit stop and now, the eighth.

Eight times she had refused him to come near her with the simple warning '_don't'._

Angry – sure it was more with himself than her – he went to the kitchen area to grab some ice, he used a towel to hold the ice and he held it to the shoulder he'd landed upon which was really throbbing now. He examined the knuckles on his right hand, they were quite swollen and sore, but as far as he could tell, definitely not broken.

How hard had he hit the guy? It had to be bad for his hand to be messed up this bad? _I got lucky I didn't break the knuckles, _he realised, he moved his fingers; it hurt to move them but he definitely _could _still move them.

He went back to the bathroom to check on Rogue, still hanging onto the towel full of ice. She was sitting on the floor, sobbing pathetically, her makeup streaming down her face, her hair sticking to the sweat on her cheeks.

"Chere..."

"Ah hate it here..." she sobbed, trying to wipe her face, only making the mess much worse than before.

Remy tilted his head, staring down at her, "In the mornin' it'll be better," he said softly. "It's jus' the booze talkin'...that's all. It makes y' feel all kinds of crazy things, makes y' say crazy things y' don't normally mean. C'mon," he moved to her and reached for her hand, "y' need t' go t' bed. Sleep this off..."

"Stop it!" she swatted him away weakly.

_Damn, that makes nine, _he thought dejectedly. "Y' can't sleep on the floor. Come on," he said, and he forcefully helped her from the floor (she had very little resistance at this stage) and took her to the master suite; she sat at the edge of the bed rubbing her head.

"My head is startin' to hurt..." she complained.

"Here..." he gave her the makeshift icepack, "push that against y' head. It'll help."

She took the towel and held it against her forehead, sighing, "Why did you hit him like that?"

"Can we talk about it in the mornin'?" he asked; he wasn't in the mood to go through this right now, especially not with her being drunk and in a foul mood. He tried to busy himself by looking through the dressers to find her pyjamas.

"It is morning," she sniffled.

"Later in the morning," he responded, finally finding the drawer with her nightwear; he brought some of the silk pyjamas he'd bought her over and placed them upon her lap, "put these on," he commanded, then took off towards the door to give her privacy to change.

Rogue stared down at the pyjamas in her lap, "Logan was right."

Remy had been on his way out of the room, away to get the _puke bucket (_the waste paper basket lined with a plastic bag) from his room. He had a feeling she may need it judging by the projectile vomiting scenes from earlier. The mention of Logan's name stopped him, he stood at the door. "About?" he tried to ask lightly, he tried to swallow the frustration that came with the subject but it tasted bitter, he couldn't force it back completely.

"We should have gone back immediately," Rogue continued, she swept the mess of her hair from her face, sniffling again. "It was a mistake comin' here."

He turned slowly to look at her, "a _mistake?"_ he asked. Fury crept up on him again. Logan...trying to poison her mind, trying to tell her what she should do and how she should behave around things. Couldn't let her be, couldn't _trust _her. Couldn't trust _him._

Rogue was staring down at the pyjamas still, her expression lost.

"What are you talkin' about? What _mistake? _ This has been a good vacation. We've been havin' a good time, haven't we?" he tried.

"A good time?" she laughed in disbelief, "you're _drunk_ every night practically...since we got here you've been drinkin'...hungover the _rest _of the time...how could you even _tell _you've had a good time? You can't even _remember _the night before whenever you wake up!"

"This is him, ain't it? Y' been discussin me with him, y' little private club of two wit' all the dirty little secrets about me...y' lettin' him poison' y' against me, lettin' him keep y' under his fuckin' thumb!"

Rogue stood up, throwing the pyjamas stubbornly to the floor, "poison me?" she demanded, "he's tryin' to look out for you and all you do is-"

"All he cares about is keepin' you where he wants y'."

"He _helped _you..." Rogue reminded, "In Louisiana, he did a lot to help you-"

"He weren't bein' helpful, he was followin' orders. He weren't takin' care of _me, _Marie, he were takin' care of _you! _Why? 'Cause he don' like the idea of _anyone _ever takin' care of y' but him."

"Remy!" she admonished.

"He ain' been happy with the way things were 'tween you and me from the _get go._ He never liked me...never wanted y' near me. Every time I go near y' I see the look on his face, like I'm touchin' his possession...like I'm steppin' on his territory! Y' his...that the way he see it!"

"That's not true," Rogue shook her head, she moved towards him, "If you'd just open your eyes—"

"I've had my eyes open plenty!" he spat angrily, "open t' the way men behave t' the ones they say they gon' take care of!" he stepped forward until he was barely a foot from her, he looked down at her angrily. "Oh they good at makin' it all seem like they good people, pillars of the community, honourable. 'Til the _lights _go out, and then it's a different story!"

"Remy!"

"Y' jus' like me, Rogue. Y' an _asset. _Y' got things that the X-Men need, y' Xavier's little secret weapon, and y' Wolverine's private little obsession. Y' not a fuckin' student, y' his dirty little _fantasy-"_

_ "_That's enough!" she warned, her face paling, "are you _listenin' _to yourself?!"

"He ain' no different to _any _of them who took an interest."

"He'd _never _do that..."

"Maybe he has already-" Remy went on, unable to help it, unable to channel the rage and frustration he felt inside any other way. It wasn't until after it had escaped his lips he realised he shouldn't have spoken further. Immediate regret belted him in the face like a stinking kipper, and it _stung._

Rogue took a step back from him, her eyes full of extreme hurt, "get out," she said, her voice barely a quivering whisper.

Remy swallowed hard, "Rogue-"

Rogue thrust her hands against his chest and pushed him backwards towards the door, "Ah said get out!"

He stumbled backwards out of the room and the door slammed barely an inch from his face with tremendous force; he felt the floor beneath him tremble a little with it. He stood staring at the door, feeling slightly blank.

"Chere...?" he asked quietly, he leaned against the frame.

He tried the handle but it was already locked, he went to his room and went to try to get access through the bathroom, he had barely touched the door handle when he heard her groan from the other side (after a retch from inside), "_leave me alone!"_

_Terrific, _he thought in disgrace at himself. _Now y' really gone and fucked things up._

* * *

**End of Part Six**

* * *

**Sorry it took so long for me to get this part up, I've rewritten it about nine bloody times, seriously, I wasn't happy with it, I think I'm just about making my peace with it. Thanks to Heartbreaklane for helping me manage to make sense of this and the next few chapters. Sometimes the ideas in my head don't quite really say where they're supposed to go in chapters. Usually I don't have much problems with writing and never have to do more than a few rewrites but this story has been murder. There's about a hundred files of it in re-writes and cut chapters so far. I have worked FAR harder on this than anything else ironically.**

**Thanks to all as always for the fab reviews. A lot of interesting thoughts and feelings you guys have had about the things going on, it's always fascinating to read and I'm always appreciative of what you guys have to say. **

**However, I do have to comment I was a bit amused about the comment a guest called "Clothes" made about the Bra comment in regards to Rogue. I personally don't feel like I stereotyped her too much at all. First, you picked at the fact mentioned in another story she liked b-movies (I'm assuming this is the "Sleepaway Camp" reference, which is a fucking awesome and REALLY corny horror movie from the 80s, highly recommend it). Fair enough, but that movie isn't stereotyped to goth. I'm not a goth, I like that movie, I mentioned it 'cause it was a fun obscure movie reference of the eighties that I thought would give her a little bit of personality (to say she doesn't go for the typical horror of her generation). Second, the bra. Again, in another story...the bra had a pattern on it for a specific reason, I wanted to be sure Gambit would know it belonged to Rogue, pure and simple (so he'd have a _reaction *cough cough*_). I'd also gotten a bra with this pattern on it (for £3...a steal!) and it gave me the idea to put it in to the story as it seemed like something the quirkier side of the OLD Rogue may have liked. Third...no, I don't want to really portray her as "changing" really; she might have grown up a little, but she's not growing out of goth to suit readers who don't seem to like the idea of the SHOW portraying her as goth. In the story, subtly Remy has her in clothes that do not suit her, he has her try to act like someone else to play a part, she makes reference to not being comfortable with it. She doesn't want to change who she is, she doesn't really want to play those specific roles and I don't think many of the fans of the show really want her to either. In the past few chapters she tries to be who REMY wants her to be and it doesn't work...does it? LOL. I think things are fine the way she is. Others seem to feel the same.**

**By now I'm sure the Angst haters (or those in disagreement with my Rogue portrayal!) will be lurking waiting to jump on me for this chapter...so I'm going to hide with a plate of mint choc truffles until the flames die out ;) Love you all :D**


	7. Part 7

**Trouble in St. Tropez**

**Part Seven**

* * *

When he awakened in the thick blackness, he could still hear Jean-Luc's voice in his head. Loud, louder than it usually got. Years had passed, but he could _still _feel that slap to the face that had left his cheek on fire.

Twelve years old, trying to hop a freight train to Virginia, he hadn't cared where he was going, only he _needed _to get away. The train was stationed but hadn't moved for half an hour, there was some kind of fault, train couldn't move.

And that was where Jean-Luc had found him, hiding amongst unmarked crates right at the back. If it had moved just _five minutes earlier, _everything would have been different. Five minutes...it may have been the difference between a better life and the life he had ended up with for the next few years. If he had escaped that day, he may have not ended up joining the guild at all...his training would have not begun that Fall.

The sound of construction work going on nearby had been loud enough to _drown out_ the yelling and his crying when Jean-Luc struck him repeatedly for his absconding.

It was odd how he had forgotten about that day, it had become lost in a pile of other memories of many attempted runs, other failures, of slaps and beatings and verbal abuse. He could remember that night, the punishment had been more severe than was the norm for Jean-Luc to dish out. But then, that night he'd been madder than usual. He'd lost a lot of money gambling, Henri had failed his first Guild trial and his adopted son had attempted to flee their home. He'd had his reasons to be upset.

Not that it justified any of it of course.

The words still rang in Remy's head as he sat up, rubbing his face.

_I gave y' everythin'! I taught y' everythin', gave y' a home, a life, and this how y' repay me...I shoulda left y' t' die on the street with the pimps and the fuckin' murderers._

His heart was still racing in his chest, uneven pounding tempo, skipping and starting like a car engine in it's last splutter before it finally gave out and became scrap for a junkyard. For some moments, Remy wondered if it just might _stop _completely...Rogue would come in eventually and find him a (reasonably) good looking corpse on a memory foam mattress on Egyptian cotton sheets. Would she even mourn? At least he was certain she had plenty of black to wear to his funeral...she was spoilt for choice.

Remy sat there, breathing deeply through his mouth, exhaling slowly and steadily through his nose, trying to shut out the want to frustratedly hit something. The sky outside was starting to slightly lighten, there were shadows skimming across the room as the voiles and drapes swayed in a cool breeze from the slightly open sliding patio doors. He swallowed the lump in his throat and got out of bed, switching the light on, giving a nervous glance to every corner of the room, wondering if the ghost of Jean-Luc might be there with him.

It was as if he were being _stalked._

The man from the street-side cafe...the nightclub...that silhouette. He was being _haunted _all right. He pulled the doors open all the way and stepped out onto the veranda and gazed out over the beach, the moon was mostly obscured by clouds but the waves were highlighted slightly in silver, as were the clouds. It was beautiful yet strangely eerie and oddly depressing all at once.

He leaned there, trying not to let his hands shake and his eyes tear up. He hated that it left him feeling this way. He'd stopped crying when he'd finally gotten old enough to fight back and he didn't want to go back to it. It had taken a _long time _and a _lot _of work to get that strength together. To learn how to fight it and how to fight the emotion that always came with it.

_Can't fight a ghost, _Remy thought, he ran his hand through his hair frustratedly. He needed a cigarette but he was all out. He had that eerie sensation of being watched closely, that his adoptive father might be lingering behind him, looking upon his half-nude body with that strange almost lustful expression he only _ever _got when he was well and truly hammered.

Remy shuddered despite himself, he headed towards the bathroom, still shaking as he washed his hands and face. He gazed at himself in the mirror, his eyes were wide, his pupils huge in the dim lighting.

_Bastard is dead, he can't come back. Y' just tired, y' just stressed, _he kept telling himself. He turned to gaze through the open door leading into the master bedroom. The light was still on in there and he could see Rogue was stretched out on the massive bed, corner to corner, stomach to the mattress, her hair over her face, one arm hanging over the edge.

Slowly, he moved into the room and stood there for a moment examining the sleeping mess of her, her makeup was all over her face, in grey tracks where she'd cried, her lipstick smeared, her eyeshadow rubbed every which way. His heart lurched a little; she'd cried and he'd been able to do nothing but stand there helpless. She wouldn't even let him comfort her.

_Should have been there for her like she's been for me the entire time since we left, _he realised grimly. He sighed and picked up her black dress from the floor which was now ruined with vomit and lager. Oh, Remy supposed it _could _be dry cleaned but it would always be tainted with this horrible night.

The horrible night that had been all his doing.

_If I hadn't wanted to go there, none of it would have happened, we'd have had a nice evenin'...maybe somethin' would have happened if I'd just given things a chance, _he thought miserably as he threw the dress back to the floor, shaking his head at himself.

But how could he have given things a chance feeling like this? How could he make her understand that last night her attempts to even touch him had left him slightly cringing and uneasy. It wouldn't have worked and trying to explain it would have only bruised her ego, which he realised judging by her drunken complaints on the way out of the club last night, was already incredibly beaten up as it was.

Remy wished he could be honest with her; he wasn't sure why he couldn't help but hold back so much other than he was so afraid it might make her see him in a completely different light. Besides...some things were far too private to share.

He stood examining her for a moment. _Is...is she breathin'? _He thought, feeling a slight chill roll up his back and back down. She was so still. _So still. _In his mind, he had a vision of Jean-Luc hanging over the couch passed out, vomit on the floor and down the side of the couch, he had _looked _dead.

"Marie?" he asked shakily, his voice barely a whisper. He crept silently to the bed and he swept her hair from her face as carefully as he could just to examine her, to check she was really all right. Her breathing was so light.

His breathing slowed a little, his heart starting to beat at the normal rate. She was fine...he was overreacting, worrying about things. He'd never worried about anyone this way before.

He'd never had so much to lose.

He climbed onto the bed and lay at her side, she didn't even stir, sleeping far too deeply and drunkenly to be awakened by his closeness. He pressed his cheek to her back, the satin of her pyjama wrap (finally she was _wearing _it) was so cool against the cheek that Jean-Luc had slapped so many years ago...the cheek that still almost burned with it. He could feel her heart beating through the thin cool fabric; could _feel _the tiniest of pulses.

_She's fine, _he told himself, his body relaxing. _Just sleepin' deeply._

As he lay there against her, his thoughts trickled to the argument they'd had, the things he'd said about Logan. He supposed she'd never understand how he felt about it, how he _saw _it...not if she'd always been safe. Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes and tried to still his mind, listening to the steady beating of her heart. The lingering feeling of Jean-Luc still hung around him, but at least he wasn't alone, at least he had something real to hold on to.

For now. But he had to wonder as he started to drift for just how much longer.

* * *

When Rogue awoke that morning at ten am, her head was pounding. She lay for a moment, head foggy and body slightly aching – especially her stomach. As she dropped her gaze to her arm she could see a hand gripping her sleeve; the slight glint of a wedding ring upon that hand caught her sight in the dim light in the room that was sifting through the drapes. She sat up slowly, having to untangle Remy LeBeau's arm from around her; she hadn't even _felt _him get into the bed during the night. She found herself groggily wondering when he'd come in.

Her throat hurt immensely, her mouth tasted foul. The word _hangover _came to mind as she sat there rubbing her forehead; she was glad she'd thought to shut the drapes before she'd gone to bed; at least the light wasn't streaming in to make it worse.

Leaning against the headboard, she stared at the pale wall, trying to think clearly. Unlike Remy's drunken escapades, she could remember _everything _from the night before. It seemed like one long lingering nightmare that she had to wake up to. The dress she'd worn last night was strewn across the floor, she couldn't even pretend she had dreamed the entire thing.

She turned to Remy who was sleeping on his side, he'd come almost naked, wearing nothing but his boxers and she realised with horror just how _dangerous _that had been. Her head pounded with the thought of what could have happened with one accidental shifting in the night; turning over, she may have absorbed him to death.

_Boy is tryin' to get himself killed, _she thought in dismay.

Pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them she let her chin rest against them and thought of things. This vacation was becoming less and less fun as it was wearing on. She couldn't do this...she couldn't go through this for another night. She had thought that Remy had needed this vacation but as the days passed, it seemed more likely that it was making things _worse, _not better.

_Logan was right, we shouldn't have come, _she thought dully.

It was another twenty minutes before Remy shifted positions, grunting as he started to stir, stretching a little, his eyes fluttered open, and he gazed at her at her groggily, his expression a little hazy, eyes unfocused and soft.

Rogue looked away from him, right now she couldn't stomach the thought of looking him in the eyes after what he'd said last night about Logan. Her heart sunk in her chest and she had to close her eyes for a moment and breathe calmly to force herself to _not_ break into sobs.

"G' Mornin'," he said quietly.

Was it a good morning? No. He'd beaten up a complete stranger, he'd accused Logan of _terrible _things, he'd gone off on one of his tirades. It certainly was _not _a good morning. Did he expect everything to be better? Just because he was good at forgetting things happened didn't mean _she _was.

"Ah think we should go back to Bayville," she said, her voice was thick and hoarse, even she could hear the finality in her tone. It was less of a suggestion and more of a decision. It wasn't '_Ah think' _as much as '_Ah know'. _ She finally managed to throw a glance in his direction but wished she hadn't. He looked dreadful.

Remy slowly sat up, sniffing a little, he looked thoroughly exhausted, hair sticking up every which way, eyes dark beneath. "Vacation ain' over..." he said softly. "We got few more days-"

"You have some shit to sort out, Remy..." she admitted, still hugging her knees, "and that's not going to happen here."

Remy looked away, his expression dark. She could see he didn't want to be faced with this first thing when he'd woken up. Admittedly, neither did she, but it had to be dealt with. It couldn't go on this way any longer. It was less of a vacation and more of a disaster in paradise.

"Ever since we got here..." Rogue said, "you've been...Ah don't know...sad. There's nothin' but trouble here for you. Booze...fights...Ah can _see _you're unhappy..."

"I _am _happy here."

Rogue wasn't convinced he was; in fact, as she thought of it, she wasn't sure in all the time she'd known him she'd ever known him to be _truly_ happy. Of course, she realised she hadn't truly known him that long at all. They might have fake-married each other, and come on vacation together, lived with each other for a few weeks but they were _still _strangers. She had _never _known him happy because she had never really known him.

What did she know about him? He stayed in mostly a forced neutral state, neither happy or unhappy for a good while. Just getting along with things. Pretending to be happy didn't _count._

"You're not, Remy. Ah don't think you've ever really been happy..." she sighed, "Ah think...you just...deal with things, gloss over them, try to pretend you don't care...but I'm not sure you've really been happy at all. You just emulate it because that's what seems normal."

"And y' think goin' t' Bayville t' be _judged _by people who don' got the first _idea _about what I'm goin' through is _gonna _make me happy?" he scoffed.

"What makes you happy here?" she asked, "All you do here is pretend to be someone else. Ah got news for you, sugar...you can pretend to be Jeremy LeNoir all you want, you can pretend to be a rich millionaire playboy and live in luxury...it won't _change _anything...it won't take it all away."

"I never said it had to. That's not what this vacation is about," he said, he got out of the bed and moved to the curtains, drawing them open much to her distress, she squinted painfully.

"Then what _is _it about?" she demanded, scoffing herself now.

"It's a _honeymoon! _I jus' wanted t' spend some time wit' you. Alone. T' be like a real couple before we go back and have t' pretend like we ain' married."

"Remy, we're _not _married..."

He shot her a look, "why y' so quick t' dismiss it? Y' say y' love me but y' can't stand the thought of bein' my wife...why?"

"Remy-"

"Because of Jean-Luc? Because y' think he _broke _me or somethin'? Is that what it is?"

"Ah never wanted to be married in the first place," she reminded, "it was a _favour..._it was never meant to be permanent. We _agreed _on that, remember? That's why Ah gave a fake name. It's not even _legal._"

He shook his head, "why y' gotta take this away from me?!" he demanded irritably, "I jus' lost the only semblance of a family I'll ever have...now y' gon' make me lose you too?"

"You're not losin' me."

"Yes I am," Remy said, "christ, I felt it from the moment we got here..."

She groaned inwardly, her head could do without this. Why couldn't she have just gone back to sleep and left it until it had been completely slept off? "Here we go..." she sighed quietly.

"Y' pullin' away from me more and more every day...feels like we're less and less _together _even when we're in the same damn room. We ain' lovers...we ain' _anythin'. _Feels like I'm on a trip with someone who a distant _friend, _not my wife...and it's gon' be like that in Bayville...and y' eager t' get back there so y' can be free of me."

"Not true..." she shook her head in disgrace.

"Y' all I got left," he turned and looked at her, his eyes hurt. "I got _nothin' _but a lil' bit of money and _you..." _he drew his breath. "And I'm _losin' _y'."

"You're not losin' me," she stood up, "believe me, it won't be that bad in Bayville...and you'll gain so many friends, you'll be part of a _real _family then. And we'll see each other every day, we'll train together, we'll go on missions together..."

"We'll be friends...that's all," he stated, "is that how y' wan' it t' be?"

"Of course not..." she tucked her hair behind her ears, "but you and Ah started so fast...we went the wrong way about _everything..._we went about this backwards, now we gotta go the right way about it. It'll be like startin' over."

"Or never startin' at all," he supposed quietly, he looked away from her.

Sighing deeply, trying to ignore her pounding headache, she moved over to him and put her gloved hands upon his cheeks, she turned his head towards her, made him look at her. "We're _not _breakin' up. We're just going to restart the entire thing the _proper _way."

"At least lets stay married...I _need _this...y' don' get it. I've lost _everythin'. _I'm givin' up _everythin' _else...I can't lose _this. _It's the only _one _good thing that's ever happened t' me."

"But so many more _good things_ are _about _to," she promised.

"I don't _care. _I want to keep this. Everythin' I ever had got taken from me...y' can't take this."

"You know they won't let us stay married..."

"We're eighteen, they can't stop us."

"Yes, they can. It's a fake marriage, there's nothing legal about it..." Rogue reminded, "it's just a piece of paper, that's all...a piece of paper with two names on it and _one _of them isn't even real. It doesn't mean _anything. _What really matters is what _we _have, right?"

He looked at her, seeming slightly doubtful.

"Right?"

"If y' say so," he remarked quietly.

"Ah want to go back, Remy. Ah think we need to get away from here, this place isn't good for you."

"There's nothing wrong with this place," he said dully, he moved out onto the patio and she followed him although it killed her to be in the light.

No...she supposed the problem wasn't the place or the people, it was _him _that was the real problem. "It's been nothin' but trouble in St. Tropez since we got here," she commented, "Remy...be honest with me...you came here before...when we first got here you said somethin' about spendin' an entire week gettin' drunk...wakin' up in wild places, doin' wild things...doesn't that _say _anythin' to you?"

"That I know how t' have a good time?" he tried weakly.

Rogue swallowed hard, "that maybe you _drink _too much when you're here."

He turned to look at her, a sudden flash of anger in his eyes, "Are y' callin' me a-"

"Ah'm not callin' you _anythin_'. Ah'm just sayin' that...you're makin' yourself ill..."

"Y' one t' talk, y' were the one totally wasted last night, not me," he tried to quickly put it all on her.

"Ah only got _wasted _because Ah didn't want _you _to get wasted. Ah was tryin' to make sure you couldn't put it all down your throat," she snapped. "Ah didn't _want _to get drunk, Ah didn't want a damn hangover, Remy. Ah just wanted to make sure you didn't spend more time drunk and hungover."

Remy frowned, he looked way angrily, "I'm not an alcoholic."

"Ah never said you _were."_

"Y' sure implyin' it," Remy remarked.

"Why drink every night?"

"I'm jus' tryin' t' relax, have some fun."

"Could have fooled me," she shook her head at him. "Either way...I think we need to get out of here."

"Look, y' wan' go off t' Bayville, run back t' Logan and Scott?" he snorted, "_go._ Y' got my credit card, y' got y' fake passport. Go book y'self a fuckin' flight. Leave me alone here t' rot, okay. Y' gon' do it anyway. Least if y' do it here I don't got the public humiliation of bein' _dumped _back there in front of all y' friends."

"Remy!"

He gripped the railing hard, at his side he heard Rogue trying to calm herself.

"Where does this anger come from?" she asked quietly after refraining from snapping at him again.

Drawing a breath, he shakily replied, "I'm not angry. I'm jus'...tired..." his voice grew soft and sad.

Rogue chewed her lip, she touched his back shakily, her fingers trembled a little. She still felt slightly scared of him...even _more _scared _for _him. She had half expected him to tense under her touch but instead, his posture changed, seemed to relax.

"Look..." he sighed, "Jus'...give me _one _more day here...t' get my head t'gether. I can't go t' Bayville like this..." he looked down to the sand. "I need t' prepare myself."

"One more day?" she asked, "that's it?"

"One more day," he promised, a nod, never looking her in the eyes.

"_One_ more day," she repeated, she turned him to look at her, "one more day...no drinking...no bars, no wine at dinner. No more _pretending _to be someone you're not."

"Fine," he sighed.

"Ah'm gonna go take a bath, take some aspirin and try to get _my _head together," she decided.

"Yeah...y' need t' pull y' self t'gether, y' ain' lookin' y' best right now," he supposed, he touched her hair absently, examining her face.

Rogue forced a smile, feeling nowhere near like smiling for him, "things will be good in Bayville...the fresh start will make all the difference, you'll see..." she patted his shoulder and he flinched. She had forgotten how he'd hurt it until that moment. "Sorry...forgot..."

"Think I maybe cracked it a little when I fell..." he admitted.

"You mean were _thrown."_

"Same difference," he rolled his eyes at her, "go shower. I'm gon' take a drive, get some croissants for breakfast."

"That's all you're going to get?" she asked suspiciously.

"Cigarettes," he admitted sheepishly.

"Ah thought you were goin' to stop?"

"I am," he said, "I'm guessin' they won't let me smoke at Xavier's anyway. But...right now..." he trailed off.

"Okay," she agreed, "go get cigarettes...and croissants. And _fresh _orange juice..." she told him. "And _please _don't get any alcohol."

"I promise," he sighed, crossing his heart.

Rogue watched him go back to his room, wondering if he could be trusted. She was sure she would know soon enough.

* * *

The drive did Remy a little good; he'd woken up with a slight headache himself and he'd been suffering with this for several days, but at least this one he was sure was more to do with stress than alcohol consumption.

As he drove along the narrow roads, listening to the French radio stations, he thought of Rogue's words. Her promises about how nothing would change, how there would be fresh starts and everything would be better. Somehow, he doubted it. He'd never been good at making fresh starts. They always eventually crumbled around him like badly built walls on poor foundations.

He lingered a little while in the town before deciding to go back, needing some time to think away from Rogue, away from her judging eyes and her sympathetic expressions. He sat at the waterfront for a while, watching the boats come in, smoking a few cigarettes and trying to bring himself down, trying to carefully plan out how they were going to spend their last day together.

And it _would _be their last day.

Things were never going to be the same once they went back to Bayville. There'd be so much going on, they'd find very little time for each other. He'd watched the X-Men for some time, Rogue's busy school schedule and training would get in the way, and her friends...they would take up her time too.

_None of them ever gon' know what me and Rogue are t' each other either, _Remy thought miserably. _Won' be able t' tell them we got married...won' be able t' wear my ring, _he realised. He glanced down at his hand, his wedding ring hadn't come off since the day he'd put it on. It shone brightly in the late morning sun, reminding him of the day Rogue had placed it on his finger.

He supposed now would be a good time to take the ring off and throw it into the water, but as he went to do it, he found his fingers had swelled from the heat and he couldn't slip the thing off. Part of him wanted to see that as a _sign._

Part of him felt that perhaps it had been a pointless thought. He couldn't do it. He couldn't part with the ring; he may have picked it out himself, but in the end, her putting it on him had instilled some kind of spell upon it; looking at it reminded him clearly of that one day and it was something he didn't want to forget; throwing away the ring was like throwing away everything. He couldn't.

He put his cigarette out and before leaving gazed down to the still water at the pier. He felt an icy jolt run up his spine when for just a brief second, he saw _Jean-Luc _staring where his own reflection should have been. He leapt back a little, almost falling into the water at the other side of the narrow pier.

_No...I'm not seein' that, I'm not! _He thought desperately. He rushed to the side of the pier, falling to his knees and gazing down into the calm water. His own distorted reflection was all that stared back at him.

_Jus' stress. Get back home, spend the rest of the day with Rogue, get that creep out of y' goddamn mind, _he told himself angrily.

Everything in the villa seemed rather quiet when he returned; the living room was quiet and tidy; no sound at all. "Chere?" he asked loudly, he stepped out onto the veranda and glanced down on the beach, half-expecting her to have taken a walk to sober herself up but there was no one down there.

He sighed, heading for the master bedroom to see if she was there, the room was empty; he did note, though, the sound of water slowly dripping from the bathroom. Curiously, he turned towards the bathroom (after picking up her pyjamas from the floor and throwing them onto the unmade bed) and pushed the ajar door open.

Rogue was in the bath, her nude body partially obscured with foam.

"Sorry!" he blurted, and he turned his head. He waited for her to start yelling at him but she made not a sound, he slowly crept his gaze back to her cautiously, she was _asleep. _She was slightly snoring too. He almost laughed; she'd have been quite mortified if she had realised he could see her bare breasts right at that moment. The old part of him was almost tempted to take a picture just for later reminiscing. No...he couldn't do that...couldn't mar their relationship like that, could he?

It'd certainly make for _proof _though; what if everyone believed her that there was _nothing _between her and Remy? He'd have proof...right there on his phone. He touched his pocket where his phone was, considering the possibility. No, he didn't need that. Besides...he had photos from their wedding in his suitcase. He had plenty of proof, regardless.

At his back in the bedroom, he could hear something buzzing; his eye caught Rogue's phone vibrating against the night stand, spinning slowly, waiting to be answered. Even from ten steps away he could _see _Logan's grumpy-faced expression glaring at him.

The laughter of seeing Rogue asleep in the bath died immediately, Remy swiftly made his way over to it, grabbed the phone and took it out to the veranda with him. He barked, "what?" into it immediately.

"_LeBeau?"_

"Rogue is sleepin'," Remy muttered, "there somethin' y' want, or y' just _keepin' tabs?"_

"_She's sleepin'?" _snorted Logan on the other end, _"it must be afternoon there."_

_ "_It's twelve. What's your point?_" _Remy demanded impatiently.

"_Look, just wake her up and put her on," _Logan grunted, his tone rather demanding now.

Remy's temper flared at the order. "Fuck you, I ain't wakin' her up, she's tired. She's on vacation, let the girl sleep."

"_Listen here-" _began Logan warningly.

"No, you listen," Remy said quickly, "Rogue is _my _wife, not yours. Y' don't own her, y' got no right t' dictate t' her, keep tabs on her, or make decisions for her. Leave her alone. Leave us _both _the fuck alone."

"_LeBeau-" _began Logan, his voice a snarl. Remy hit the end call button swiftly, he held the phone in his hand; almost _immediately _it began to ring again, the vibrations dancing along his hand and arm. Angrily, he focused all his rage and energy into the damn thing, it beginning to grow hot to the touch, starting to glow with his kinetic energy. He threw the thing as hard as he could out towards the water; his throw was impressive as it headed about ten feet out into the water, hitting a rock and exploding with a great deafening boom. The rock exploded into pieces, spitting out all over the water, pieces landing onto the beach. Remy felt a small pebble hit his cheek.

_Can't bother her no more, _Remy thought almost smugly.

A moment later, fast footsteps came as his back and he turned just in time to see Rogue clad in a large white towel, soaking wet, her eyes wide.

"What was that sound?!" she gasped, "Ah heard an explosion!"

"I don't know," Remy feigned a clueless expression, "I came out here t' see what it was, don't see anythin' out here..." he lied. He hoped to god she wouldn't notice the rocks on the beach that had _not _been there. He watched her give a quick gaze up and down the beach, she didn't even seem to notice the large rock that had been jutting out of the water was now gone.

Rogue swept her hand across her forehead, "Ah fell asleep in the bath."

"Y' did?" he asked. Better to pretend he hadn't than let her think he had seen her naked in the water. He knew how self conscious she could be about such things.

"Yeah...sorry," she sighed.

"Y' should be more careful...y' can drown that way y' know..." he leaned against the railing.

"Ah know...sorry."

"How's y' head?"

"It's a little better...Ah still feel a little drained though."

"Y' have any idea what y' feel like doin' today?"

"Not really...lets do what you want to do..." she said, "As long as it doesn't include any booze," she hugged her towel securely to her chest.

Remy paused, trying to think of what he would _most _like to do today. He didn't feel like doing anything, but this was her last day and he was determined to make it a good one.

On second thought...there was _one _thing he would like to do.

"Y' think y' hangover is over the worst part that y' could maybe stomach a boat ride?"

"Maybe," Rogue said, "the queasiness isn't too bad now."

"Okay, y' go get dressed, I go make a few calls, see if I can get us somethin' nice to hit the waves on."

"Ah better call Logan first, let him know about our plans to come back early," Rogue headed into the bedroom; Remy found it funny she hadn't even asked _why _he was standing outside the patio doors of her bedroom instead of near the _living room _doors. He supposed her slight hangover had clouded her thinking.

"Can't y' leave it 'til later? Just go get dressed..." he followed her into the room.

Rogue went from corner to corner of the room, checking the dresser, the pyjamas, the bed, the black dress she'd worn from the night before, even the _stilettos _she'd left on the floor by the bed. Remy watched her, guilt sinking in. She'd _never _find it.

"You seen my phone?" she asked with a tedious sigh as she moved the covers around on the bed as if she thought it'd be under the sheets.

"When was the last time y' saw it?" Remy avoided answering the question, he feigned a rather curious expression.

Rogue paused, her expression vague, "Ah'm not sure...last night maybe? Ah...don't know if Ah took it to the club or not..."

"Y' didn't have it with y' last I remember...y' had no purse with y' t' the club."

She sighed, "the last place Ah remember havin' it...Ah don't know, maybe the kitchen...? Yesterday Ah looked up the recipe for the meatloaf..."

"Let me check there, just go get dressed."

"Okay," Rogue nodded.

As Rogue got dressed in the bedroom, Remy deliberately made a point of making a lot of noise around the kitchen; he thought of a brilliant plan. He quickly took the trash out of the can in the kitchen and went outside quietly and buried it beneath the sand under the foundation. Afterwards, he went making noise about the living room until Rogue appeared dressed, her hair combed although still quite wet.

"You find it?" Rogue asked hopefully.

"No," Remy said, pretending to be quite concerned. He took his own phone out of his pocket and made a point of opening up his contacts and selecting Rogue's name. He pushed the call button and waited, "I'm callin' y' number but it's just ringin' like the phone is off..."

"Maybe the battery ran out...Ah didn't charge it yesterday."

"Where was the last place you absolutely remember seeing it?"

"Kitchen counter...?" she shrugged.

"I've looked all over; even looked over here. You _sure _you didn't take it to the club?"

"Ah...don't remember," Rogue said, "Ah mean, Ah remember all of last night but...some things are a little fuzzy. Ah don't remember takin' my phone. Last time Ah think Ah saw it was on the counter...when Ah was usin' it to check the recipe for the dinner..."

"And you cleaned up a little of that junk before we sat down to watch the DVDs..."

"The trash..." she said with realisation, she quickly went to the trash can and opened it up, "it's empty..." she said, looking worried.

"Oh yeah...I put it out last night before I went to bed..." he pretended to _remember _this. "It might be still in the garbage can outside."

Rogue took off to go check outside, Remy followed her, guilt biting at him more.

_God, I'm an asshole. Hope there was nothin' important on that phone like photos she wanted to keep or anythin'. Maybe should have checked for a memory card first..._

He watched as Rogue opened the garbage can at the end of the path in front of the villa, but it was completely empty. She pouted, "It's empty...they must have emptied the garbage when we were sleepin'."

"I guess y' did throw the phone out."

"Shit..." she groaned, "Ah don't even have Logan's number by heart...did you even get it before we left?"

"No..." Remy said, "we can look up the number for the institute later on, okay? Lets jus' get our plans made t' spend the day t' gether, it's already nearly twelve thirty, we don't got much time left."

Rogue seemed slightly uneasy but shrugged, "okay, Ah guess Ah can double check later..."

_Doesn't matter how much y' double check, y' ain' ever gon' find it, chere._

* * *

**End of Part Seven**

* * *

**Drama drama drama drama. I'm sure there'll be a few opinions on Remy's state of mind at this moment, no doubt, lol. **

**Thank you to all who have reviewed so far. Hope you're all enjoying the story and I appreciate all the feedback :)**


	8. Part 8

**TROUBLE IN ST. TROPEZ**

**Part Eight**

* * *

**Just a note to say, scenes of a rather sexual nature, read at your own risk (or perversion if that's your thing). It's not terribly explicit or anything, but...yeah. You've been warned (3/4th of the way down for those who just came to skim :P ).**

* * *

When Remy had suggested to her that they rent a boat, Rogue had imagined it would be a _boat, _not a _huge _yacht fit for royalty with all the modern conveniences including a bedroom, a bathroom and a small kitchen area. It was less of a boat and more of a _house on water. _Actually it was more like a floating luxury _hotel _on water.

Rogue stared at the water front as it grew further and further away while the boat sailed off. She wondered just how far out they would be going with this thing. It made her slightly nervous wondering if perhaps Remy might be in the kind of mindset that would cause him to throw the keys to the yachts ignition into the water and _strand _them out in the middle of the damn ocean just to ensure they _didn't _have to go back.

_It's fine, _she told herself, kicking herself mentally for thinking that way. _If we were so much as a day late comin' back, Logan would be lookin' for us anyway. You're just paranoid 'cause of the way he's been actin' lately._

She wondered if it was only _lately _he'd been unpredictable. He'd been practically unpredictable since the moment he'd arrived at her window begging for her hand in marriage. She never knew what was going on in his head from one moment to the next. He had a slightly volatile temper, it was something she'd seen not only recently (with that man who'd twice caused her to get drinks spilled on her) but back in Louisiana too. He'd been volatile with his brother...with his father, he'd been volatile throwing a plate of food across the room in frustration.

How much more volatile could he get?

She hated right then she hadn't thought to question if that volatility and frustration might _not _be confined to his home, but might follow him. It bothered her that she'd never thought to question _why _he was such a good fighter; the reasons were becoming more and more clear. He'd had to learn to handle himself and if he had a temper, it was likely to give plenty of opportunity to practise.

Pushing aside the thoughts, she made her way up to Remy, who was at the helm, sitting calmly at the wheel, his expression _almost _mellow. He turned to look at her, "wondered where you'd went," he admitted to her.

"Where did you think Ah went?" she gave a vague laugh, "a walk to Paris?"

"Big boat," he supposed, "Y' could have been anywhere."

"That's true," she took the other seat, gazing out at the sparkling blue water. "Ah may have been in the east wing eatin' champagne truffles while the Butler cancelled all my appointments for the day."

"Funny," he remarked.

"When you said _a boat," _she began, "Ah thought you meant _boat, _not a cruise ship."

"It's hardly a cruise ship."

"How big is this?"

"Don't know. Eighty feet maybe?" he shrugged, "does it matter? She's seaworthy and that's all that matters."

"There's an electronic power shower downstairs," she said. "And LED lights around the _toilet._"

Remy gave a vague smirk, "in case y' wan' go pee in the dark, I guess."

"Where does the fresh water come from?" she wondered aloud.

"Who knows," he replied.

She paused to think about things. Why did they need all these things for what was _supposed _to be a simple boat ride? It had struck her more than once since they had boarded. "We're not stayin' here over night, are we?" she asked.

"No," he turned to look at her, "not unless y' want to."

She chewed her bottom lip, "Ah don't have anythin' to wearto bed, Remy."

"Not exactly a problem," he supposed, "not for me, anyway."

Rogue frowned, he was so all over the place, one minute angry, one minute sad, one minute quiet and defensive, then making jokes like that. She never knew what to expect of him. She was still too uneasy after his accusations about Logan last night to really take that kind of comment lightly.

"Y' wan' drive?" he asked.

"No thanks," Rogue said, "Ah drank way more than you last night, Ah'd rather not be responsible for plowin' down any swimmers or anythin'."

"No one gon' be swimmin' way out this direction."

"Ah'm fine chillin'," she decided, "You just keep on what you're doin'. You're good at this."

"Not the first boat I've had t' drive."

Rogue gave a vague smirk, "oh yeah. Ah forgot."

Remy's expression was confused, "hmm?"

"Back in March...remember? When you...Ah mean, we took that little boat up the swamp..."

"Oh...yeah," he said.

Rogue felt immediately regretful she'd reminded him, it would only put to mind _why _they had been there in the first place. A waste of time. Rogue wondered if Remy would have saved the retch back then if he'd known that barely four months later, the bastard would be six feet under.

"I forgot. That was our firs' boat ride t' gether," his expression was clouded, she could see the memories drifting back.

She hated pussyfooting around these subjects, it was frustrating, she was sure it wasn't helping anything. He needed to hash it out, he needed to say things. She didn't want to hear them, but she needed to at least make _sure _he had the option to unload. "Remy..."

"Yes, chere?"

"Is...I mean...if there's anythin' you need to talk about..."

"Nothin' I need t' talk about."

"Ah mean...if anythin' is _botherin' _you..." she tried.

"Ain' nothin' botherin' me."

It was beyond frustrating. He was so much in denial he couldn't even see _through _the many, many shades of it. There were layers and layers of denial just piling on every single day; unfortunately it was just becoming a poor patch job, there were cracks and holes all over the denial, things were slipping through, trickling out.

"Ah just think...maybe it'd be good to talk about some things."

"I was thinkin' when I go back t' Bayville I may buy a Harley," he said, changing the subject so swiftly it almost made her head spin, "Always wanted one."

Rogue tilted her head, examining him. Was that all he had to say? She played along for now, "that'd be kind of cool," she supposed. In a way she was almost encouraged by the thought he'd given _that _some thought. It meant perhaps he _did _intend on going back. While she'd been lying in the bathtub (before nodding off) she'd wondered if Remy had taken so long because he'd perhaps decided to just take off for once and for all.

"Maybe paint my room at the mansion...if I'm allowed."

"I don't see why you wouldn't," she said, "what colour were you thinkin'?"

Remy stared at the water, "that colour, maybe..." he gestured. "Or green...like y' eyes."

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away shyly, "that's a rather borin' colour to paint a wall."

"I think it's a rather pretty colour myself," he admitted, a tiny smile playing about his lips. "So...what are the rules like at that place anyway?" he asked. "What's it gon' be like?"

"As you'd expect in a school," she admitted, "bed checks, curfews...televisions off after ten, if you listen to music past that time, you have to wear earphones."

"What about us? What's the rules gon' be like with that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Will we _be _allowed t' be alone? I mean...what if I wanted t' come see y' in y' room?"

"No," Rogue shook her head, "You know that isn't even an _option_. There's strict rules in place. They don't want any of _that _kind of behaviour...especially 'cause it'd set a bad example for the younger kids."

"I set a bad example either way," he jested.

Rogue ignored him and continued, "You can't swear, you have to be polite to the instructors. All of them," she said, deciding to refrain from using Logan's name, she didn't want another argument. "And you can't be in a girl's room alone with the door closed. Ever."

"So...we ain' gon' get any time alone together?"

"No...at least...not for a while."

Remy's face darkened, his eyes squinted almost angrily.

"Look...even Scott and Jean barely get time together," she admitted. "And they've been together a long time...and they're old enough to _legally _do what they want...it's just...it's not a good idea."

"What y' gon' tell the others when y' get back? About us?"

Rogue's face burned with embarrassment at the thought of them all finding out about any of it. "For now...Ah think it's wise that we keep things on the down low. It ain't their business anyway."

"Down low..." he repeated, his face darkening even more. "What y' sayin' is...no one is allowed t' know. We can't date."

"Not for the time bein'."

"So we're goin' to Bayville to _not _be married, to _not _be alone, and we can't even publicly _date?" _he asked. "Y' promised me we weren't breakin' up but it sure as hell sounds like we are."

"We're _not,_" she promised, "Ah just need things to be the way they were for a bit back home. Besides, you need time to settle too, time to _breathe. _ It's been close quarters with us for weeks now."

"I don't _mind _close quarters. That's what I've gotten _used _to."

"Remy...Ah just want this to myself for now."

"This?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You know...the secret of it...of _us. _Ah've never really had anythin' like this...it's...somethin' private, you know? It's nice havin' somethin' that's just _mine._"

He lowered his eyes.

"We're _not _breakin' up," she assured softly, "We'll find time somehow, it won't be that different from now...and just 'cause we have to get this whole thing annulled doesn't change _anythin' _about our relationship. It's just a little piece of paper, right? An _idea. _It's all fake at the end of the day."

"I don' wan' talk about this right now...it's our last real day t' gether, I don' wan' it all _tainted _wit' how much it's gon' _suck _when we get back..."

"Okay," she agreed. "Lets go get some of that food, okay? Try to chill. Lets just try to enjoy what we have left."

The pate was good, it tasted great, but Rogue couldn't find any enjoyment in it. The bread was fantastic, the non-alcoholic champagne was somewhat acceptable but the fresh strawberries Remy had brought along were divine.

It had all the makings of a fairly nice deck-picnic, but she didn't enjoy a mouthful. Her senses told her everything was nice but her brain was far too distracted to really care. Remy odd behaviour as of late still weighed heavily on her mind, and what weighed more was the thought she was taking him where it might be noticed by others. It was hard enough to be the only one seeing him like this, seeing him erratic and upset, but it was quite another having _others _see him in the same condition.

_Maybe he's right, maybe we need to stay away for longer, _Rogue wondered. She stared out at the water, trying to clear her mind of these thoughts, but only more would come. _No...we can't stay away forever. And Ah definitely can't handle this alone much longer. _

How was he going to behave back in Bayville though? She had to wonder if it was a safe thing to do, putting a slightly volatile person into a school of teenagers.

_What are you thinkin'?_ She demanded of herself angrily. _He wouldn't hurt anyone intentionally..._

Then again...what about pock-faced man with the ruddy complexion and wiry long hair from last night that he had pummelled for simply spilling a drink on her? That had been rather startling, it still brought a chill to her bones to think of it.

_Just need to take it one day at a time and be really careful, _she supposed.

She couldn't help but be relieved to be going home tomorrow; she'd known from the moment she'd agreed to go with him that she'd be burdened with a lot of responsibility for him but she hadn't expected this extent. She was looking forward to a little relief.

_Is it selfish to be glad to be goin' home just so Ah'm not alone with this any more? _She wondered, feeling slightly uneasy at the thought of it.

Rogue felt him staring at her from where he sat a few feet away on the was sitting far away enough from her that her swim-suit clad body wasn't going to be much of a risk. She still felt slightly uncomfortable from being so undressed near him, but it had been so warm she'd had to give in to the lull of the sun...at least just once more before returning to Bayville.

"Y' goin' red, y' know," he said, sweeping the sweat from his brow.

Rogue glanced at her bare legs and arms but shrugged. She couldn't see it herself, perhaps she saw her own skin far too much to really be able to tell.

Remy used the foot of length left from the obnoxiously long baguette from their picnic and tapped her left breast with it, "there."

She frowned and folded her arms over her chest, "stop it."

"Jus' tryin' t' point out y' gon' burn."

"You _said _you wouldn't make fun if Ah wore the bikini again," she reminded him, it had been a discussion they had had before leaving the Villa. He'd promised, she'd doubted him, he'd made his point and she'd finally agreed hoping he'd keep his word.

"I'm not makin' fun," he responded, "jus' wanted y' t' be aware."

"Ah didn't bring any kind of lotion," she realised.

"Neither did I," he shrugged, "I don' really burn."

"I noticed, you're darker than molasses right now, I'm still white as a bed sheet."

"Y' a little pink," he shrugged, "Y' almost look like y' not a corpse."

"You _said _you wouldn't make fun," she reminded as she picked up the light chiffon blouse she'd been wearing earlier and pulled it on to give her some protection from the blazing sun, "not sure this is gonna make much of a difference to the sun gettin' to me now," she grumbled.

"It'll diffuse it a little," Remy supposed, he put the non-alcoholic champagne to his lips, "This stuff is vile by the way."

"Why you complainin' to me?" she raised an eyebrow at him, "you bought it."

"Yeah. It ain' a patch on the real thing."

"Yeah, well, you've had too much of that lately, and too much alcohol and sun isn't a _good _thing," she focused on the buttons of her blouse. "And besides...you won't be havin' the real thing back in Bayville; may as well get used to it now..." she finished with the buttons.

"I suppose," he mumbled, he stared at the glimmering water, eyes a million miles away.

Rogue watched his face, he seemed rather calm now, eyes soft, face a little slack, his posture, his body language were all very different from last night. She still had it locked up in her mind and couldn't shift it...the way his eyes had seemed to go completely black, the way his face had become locked in an angry stone expression that had made him look so unlike himself that it had _jarred _her. She couldn't get it out of her head no matter how much she tried.

_Ask _him, she told herself. _While he's calm._

"Remy...what made you that mad last night?" she asked, after a few moments of trying to brace herself just in case he snapped at her.

"Huh?"

"About the guy with the drinks..." she began.

"I don't want to talk about that now," Remy replied.

"It's just...it wasn't somethin' to get _that _mad about," she tried.

"I ain' gon' go int' it right now," he mumbled, he took a bite from the edge of the baguette, eyes thoughtful.

"Remy..."

"He called y' a _cunt," _Remy reminded, "that's the vilest thing y' can call _any _woman."

"Yeah but..." she gave an uncomfortable laugh at the word, "the British...they use that word _far _more liberally than we do..."

"I don' care..." Remy turned to look at her, "no one gon' hurt y' whether it be with fists or _words._"

She was about to bring up how _angry _he had gotten over it, how truly insane he had seemed behind the eyes but before she could, she felt something against her thigh and she glanced down to see he was brushing the rounded end of the baguette against her thigh playfully.

"Stop it," she smacked the baguette away, "last night, Remy...you looked so wild..." she admitted. The thought of it now even frightened her, it had been as if for a moment Remy LeBeau had _not _been behind those eyes. He'd lost himself for those moments and even she hadn't been able to stop him.

"He was an asshole who deserved what he got, I've stated my case, I'm not gon' explain myself any further," Remy said rather flatly, he slid the baguette suggestively across her knee.

"Ah said cut it out!" she pushed it away once again. "Go break it with a dollar bill?"

"Can't, it's too thick and a little too soft f' that."

For a moment, distracted, she laughed. "That...sounded really wrong."

"Suppose it did," he shrugged, "I'm gon' put this away jus' in case y' start gettin' any ideas about makin' comparisons. There's only so much my ego can stand," he tossed the bread into the bag he'd brought.

She eyed him, wondering why he wouldn't tell her more about the guy and what had caused him to lose it so badly. "It's just...you could have just threatened the guy, he'd have probably backed off," Rogue admitted.

Remy sighed, "look, I've told y' twice now, he was a jerk and he ain' gon' get away with speakin' t' my wife that way," he retorted, "end of discussion."

Rogue looked away, inwardly wincing at how he _still _took this marriage idea far too seriously. It was going to complicate things in Bayville if he didn't cut it out right now. Bayville was complicated enough as it was.

_Twenty four hours from now, we'll probably be on a flight home, _she realised. She couldn't wait to be home, wait to be in her own bed with her own pyjamas, be able to wear her own clothes again. She was even missing the others, as much as they would occasionally get on her nerves.

"Y' know...I jus' realised somethin'," said Remy after several moments of silence, his expression thoughtful.

"What?"

"This the longest I've gone without."

"Hmm?" she asked, she scratched her knee absently, her fingernails had gotten slightly long and left thin white marks across her slightly pink skin.

"_Without._"

_"Without _what?" she asked blankly.

"_Sex," _he remarked.

"Oh..." she responded quietly, feeling quite embarrassed. Nonetheless, she tried to be blasé by asking the first thing that came to mind. "Who was the last person?"

He eyed her for a moment curiously, then shook his head, "Y' know, if there's one thing TV and watchin' _other _fools mistakes has taught me, it that y' never shoul' admit t' y' wife about the women y' slept with."

_Wife, wife, wife...why can't he get it out of his head?_ She thought in disgrace.

"You told me about a few of them before," Rogue reminded, she decided to refrain from starting another argument about what this relationship was (or was not).

"Yeah but, that were before we got t' gether f' real. Totally different. I couldn' tell y' about who I was wit' or what we did now that we've gotten close," he said lazily, "it'd be askin' f' trouble and I don' need an argument, thanks all the same."

"You think Ah couldn't handle it?" she asked.

"I know y' couldn't," Remy replied. "Some things are better with a bit of mystery t' them..."

Rogue gazed away into the water, it was frustrating that he wouldn't give straight answers. It wasn't about who he'd been with that she cared about, it was that she couldn't get him to open up about last night at all. She didn't believe for one second that his attitude towards the man had been completely based on rudeness. She'd been called things far worse and hadn't taken half as much as offence as Remy had _seemingly _taken at it last night.

Something touched her thigh again, and she thought he was teasing her with the baguette again and turned to smack the thing away from her, but as her eyes dropped down she saw that Remy had put on the black stretch satin gloves that she'd taken off earlier and put aside while she was eating. His hand was just above her knee, fingers sliding a little inwards.

How strange his hand looked, the stretchy satin material shimmered a little in the sun, looked slightly ridiculous on him. He didn't seem to care all that much.

Her eyes followed the hand, his fingers stroked her pale thigh ever so lightly, a delicate touch that was just _barely _there, his fingers almost seemed to dance, and she felt a slight warmth from them, it struck her _why._

She placed her hand hard upon his and pressed it tightly against her thigh to stop him doing that, looking at him warningly, "_don't _use your powers..."

"Y' don' like the warmth? I've been tol' it can be kin' o' pleasant and tingly..." Remy admitted, a teasing smirk playing about his lips.

Rogue didn't know what to be more concerned about, the girls who had _told _him that, or that the mention of Logan's warning to her about their powers being used while on this vacation could send him into another one of his tirades. "Just...don't..." she softened her voice.

"Okay..." he nodded, he gave a slight seductive smirk, "no powers..."

"Ah'm...not sayin' it's okay..." she added nervously, removing her hand shakily from his; his hand still remained there on her thigh, pressed there, digging into her flesh just a little.

"Y' ain' sayin' it's _not _either," he pointed out, he pushed the bag with the food aside and got upon his knees in front of her.

"Remy..." she swallowed hard, "You...shouldn't..."

"I can be _really _careful..."

Her head swam with the thoughts of 'what ifs'. What if her powers activated on a single light brush? What if she killed him? What if Logan came flying out at supersonic speed to drag her back to Bayville? What if she _let _him go further? What if in two seconds someone just turned _up, _someone swam up to interrupt? What if a boat came by and someone saw? What _if _she let him go further? _What if?_

"There's no _point," _she reminded, "You know-"

"I know a lot more than _you _know," he interrupted, "Why not jus' relax and stop _talkin'_?"

Rogue drew her breath, "But-"

"Look, you was the one last night complainin' about how I _never _spent enough time _alone _with y'. I got y' out here in the water, no one for miles...no one but you and me...y' got all my attention now...it's what y' _asked _for, weren't it?" he took her arms gently, gliding his gloved fingers down them, his touch was so light and tender, not what she'd expected at all from someone with his reputation. Then again, from the start he'd always been a contradiction of everything she'd ever expected him to be. "This was what y' _wanted_..."

_That was last night, _she thought dully, wishing she could admit it. _That was last night when Ah needed to keep you away from the sauce._

She gazed at him, his expression playful – she wasn't sure how _feigned _that was. It certainly looked genuine but then he was a good actor. Was he trying to distract _her _from asking questions he was in no mood to answer? For a moment she had to ask herself what would be so bad about letting him have this moment. Tomorrow they'd be on their way back to Bayville, this would have no room to happen then. What was wrong with letting him play around in a limited capacity? How far could he possibly go?

It struck her to ask herself how awful it would be to indulge him. He'd been bothered by everything going on around him, _any _distraction would be welcome at this stage. He hadn't been interested last night and she _had _felt quite rejected by that, but right now he seemed intrigued about the idea. She had to admit, she almost was too.

He took a hold of her hands and led them back to the rail at the back of the bench, circling her fingers tightly around them, she looked at him uneasily, his fingers gliding along her thin chiffon sleeves, up her arms, her shoulders, he squeezed her shoulders for a moment, a gentle massage.

_What if Ah kill him...it'd just take one wrong thing, _she reminded herself, head swimming with fear, body intoxicated with a sense of anticipation. She'd almost expected him to try to unbutton the blouse, but he made no such attempt, and his hands barely brushed her breasts on the way down to her sides, then her hips, finally settling upon her thighs.

Her breath caught a little in her throat seeing just how close his bare forearms came to her skin. She swallowed hard. "You're gonna get hurt..." she squeaked.

"I'll be okay, don' worry...jus' relax. I've already been on the receivin' end o' y' powers, and it weren' all that bad...headache and weak f' a while. No different from bein' hungover. Ain' nothin' I ain' strong enough t' handle."

_Was _he strong enough to handle it now? Was she willing to let him take that risk?

He grabbed her behind the knees and pulled her further from the bench, she understood _why _he'd made her grab onto the rail, it was the only way she'd been able to stop herself from sliding off completely. She gave a little gasp at this rather forward move, he gave her a mischievous look as he ran the index finger of his right hand tentatively along her belly, he pushed the fabric of her shirt away from her bikini bottoms.

Her stomach flinched beneath his touch, she laughed nervously.

"Ticklish?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Just...not used to...bein' touched like that..." she said nervously, every word seemed to come out as a _breath _than anything close to a proper vocalisation.

His index finger circled her navel for a moment, she pursed her lips, watching, somewhere between fascinated and fearful. Her stomach jumped each time beneath every touch. She could see her entire body moving fast with each breath.

"Ah'm...not so sure this is a good idea," she flinched at more of these tentative tickles.

"Y' can say _no _at any time..." he reminded, he paused a moment, finger poised against the waistband of her bottoms. "'Course...y' got t' _want _t' say no, first."

The word was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't make it come out. She thought for just a moment of just how much more it would mean to _him _to let him have what he wanted, let him take his mind away from the misery. What harm was it going to do?

She was aware of all the questions that she should be asking herself over and over and yet she couldn't think of them clearly at that moment. There was something different about trying to think clearly when _this _was happening.

The word no stayed firmly on the tip of her tongue but passed no further and she couldn't force it to. He seemed to take that as signal enough that there was no objection and his index finger slid down over the front of her bikini bottoms and _no _slipped down her throat like a cautious mouse knowing better than to come out. It was at that moment, she _knew _there was no way in Heaven nor Hell she could force that word even if she tried.

Right on the button, immediate, without having to play around, Remy knew _just _where to touch her for the response, to get her into submission. She'd thought there wouldn't be much good he could do for her with the limitation of her bottoms, but she realised perhaps she'd underestimated him quite a bit. She'd always assumed these things were greatly exaggerated when portrayed on television and in movies. Fiction always differed from real life...or so she'd thought.

It was easy to get lost in the moment, pressure building up in her like a volcano, tiny little tremors shaking her within at Remy's light touch through the fabric; she forgot about her powers for those moments, they seemed inconsequential...what he was doing to her was _all _that mattered.

She was trembling hard, aching for it, and she was _very _close to _something_ when he stopped; she hung there, grasping onto the rail, thinking perhaps he'd tired or assumed she'd already climaxed. The sun was beating on her, she felt it on her thighs now, on her face; she didn't care about the sunburn she was sure to receive. She tipped her head back, breathing hard, trying to come back down from the intensity of it. She let out one tiny word, the _only _one she'd managed since he'd put his hand against her. _"Jesus..."_

Something touched her intimately, not over her bottoms as before, it was _quite _different, and almost quite sudden.

She let out a gasp and almost slipped from the railing, she pulled herself up a little, "Remy!" she yelped, something left her feeling almost _squeamish _about that touch. It was _very _unlike before.

"Ssh, it's okay, jus' don' panic..."

Craning her neck she looked down to see that he had pulled the ties of her bottoms loose, pried them away from her; her cheeks flushed at the thought of him looking at her so closely; there was _nothing _he wouldn't be able to see of her right at that moment. Her body was on _fire _at that thought...but it burned _hotter _at the sight of what _he _was doing. He was kneeling up between her legs, very close, and it wasn't until she looked at his hand that she realised _what _he was doing to her, what it was that was touching her.

"Remy, wait!-" she thrust a hand against his chest, she gripped the fabric of his t-shirt hard. "You can't-"

"It's okay...I got protection on...ain' no risk...long as I don' let our skin touch, it gon' be fine, see..."

It was almost absurd and obscene to see him like that, unromantically exposed, protruding out of his pants, the ridiculous pale yellow-green of a condom making his flesh look sickly. Her body was lava hot with embarrassment and at the same time, she was almost so incredibly _charged _with the curiosity and the utter perversion of it.

Swinging his hips forward just a little, he used himself to rub against her and she breathed sharply through her nose, the thought of their flesh so close nearly sent her there. It was _almost _normal. For one moment, she was normal, he was normal, there were no powers, no troubles, no cares. They were a normal couple, about to engage in the most _normal _thing to do at their age. There was nothing to _stop _them.

There was no limitation here, was there? Not as much as she had _assumed _there could be.

He led himself down a little, grasping himself with his gloved hand, making sure sure to shield any exposed flesh from her; his expression was one of focused concentration, she could feel where he was aiming for, and she winced caught between the knowing she _shouldn't _let him and the knowing she _could._

_ Shouldn't _and _Could _were battling it out like some brutal death match in an arena...and _Could _was definitely much stronger, threw more brutal punches, kicked far harder, got her where it hurt. She'd never thought she'd _ache _for that, even knowing that it might hurt, even knowing it might change _how _he felt about her. That it may change _everything._

_ All _the things that had occurred last night were almost forgotten, distant memories of little consequence, all Remy's burdens at that moment didn't seem to matter either. It was the first time she'd felt utterly and completely selfish...how did he have the power to do that? To make her _not care _about anything but what she wanted at that moment?

His eyes met with hers, and somehow, without saying a word, he conveyed the question to her. _Did _she want this? Did she want _him _that way.

Trembling, still trying to catch her breath from before, she managed in a weak voice, "will it hurt?"

"Maybe," he responded gently, "I'll be gentle as I can be...and if it hurts too much all y' got t' do is say stop..."

"And you will?" she shakily queried.

"Cross my heart..." he kissed the gloved tip of his index finger on his left hand and pushed it against her lips. She closed her eyes and tried to relax herself, there was no doubt in her mind at that moment she _did _want it. She briefly had to question whether he was _manipulating _her into thinking like that...then she had to question whether she even _cared_ if he was or not.

Nothing felt _wrong _about it. If he was manipulating her...did it matter? She almost at that moment _wanted _to be. For just _one _day there would be complete normalcy, that was what this vacation was supposed to be about. But what about after?

"Wait..." she said, still gripping his t-shirt. "This...it won't change anythin', right?"

"Nothin'," he assured, "I promise..."

"This...it's right, isn't it?" she asked of him. "Ah mean...it _is _right? Does it feel right to you?"

She had half expected him to wince and grow frustrated with being made to _wait _while she tried to decide if she should go through with this or not. He seemed rather calm and focused. She supposed she should have expected that after all she'd heard about him.

"Does anythin' 'bout it feel wrong t' you?"

She supposed nothing felt wrong. The circumstances were a little odd, certainly, and parts it seemed ridiculous and unrealistic...but it _didn't _feel particularly wrong. It seemed almost right, that the last day of their vacation would be met with their first time. It may be their first time...and for all she knew it _might _be their last chance...

_It may be _my _last chance, _she realised.

Romantic boat ride, beautiful blue skies, far out so no one could see them, the sound of the water around the yacht, and there was a _way _they could be together. Her head swam with the new meaning of _everything. _In twenty minutes her world had dramatically changed, and she was certain nothing would ever be the same. He'd promised nothing would change, but it was bound to...perhaps that wasn't going to be a bad thing?

It did _not _feel wrong and she shook her head slowly, meeting his eyes, hanging on desperately, waiting..._yearning_ for the next phase of their relationship to begin.

"I need t' hear it, Rogue..." he manipulated himself against her a little more, leaving her moaning in anticipation; it only made it much more difficult to resist the offer of pushing to the next phase. If it could feel like _this, _how much better would it get? "I need t' _know _y' want this t' happen...I need t' know y' _ready."_

_ "Ah am," _she drew her breath.

"And y' _sure?" _he asked, he seemed to have stopped breathing for a moment, so still, statue-like as he knelt there trying to read her.

Was she sure? God, she almost didn't _care. _If his warm up act was anything to go by, who cared about silly little things like _doubt? _Wasn't that what _regret _was for? Regret could be felt later, but _this _for all she knew may _never _happen again.

"Ah'm sure..." Rogue exhaled nervously.

He pushed against her but it didn't go as smoothly as she'd assumed it would, it was several moments of _trying _and watching his frustration, her body hot with embarrassment and anxiety that perhaps she _couldn't _have this after all. All the while her anxious thoughts shifted from logic to ridiculous, what if he was too large, what if she were too small, what if there was something _mutant _about her and her body that wanted to ensure no man passed through? She lay nervously trying not to tremble, trying not to moan too loudly or complain at the discomfort his attempts were causing while he went from gently manipulating himself against her and back down to try to penetrate in stages. _Eventually _she felt something, a sharp almost _snapping_ pain that despite her obvious forewarning, _still _caught her completely by surprised. She sat up a little, gasping, he put his hand gently down on her shoulder.

"Y' feel it?"

"Yeah..." she felt tears sting her eyes.

"It bad?"

She pressed her lips together tightly, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

"Y' need me t' stop?" he asked; there wasn't even the hint of impatience in his tone.

Swallowing hard, she sank back against rail behind her, "Ah'm fine..." she managed through gritted teeth, "Jus'...go slow."

It wasn't quite how she expected it to be; somehow she'd expected it to be _more _painful than it had been once he _was _joined to her, but she'd have classed it as more _uncomfortable _than excruciating. Remy did not break his promise, he was as gentle as he could be, almost _awkwardly gentle, _so slow and careful, inching in little by little as if he were playing Jenga, and any wrong move could cause devastation, cause everything to come crashing down.

But although his gentleness was fine, she had to _know _she could trust him, and shortly into the act she asked him to stop, not because of the discomfort but to _test _if he would honour his promise that he would cease at her request. She'd _heard _of young men making these promises to their girlfriends before only to renege on it once in the heat of the moment. Remy was _not _one of those men; true to his word, he stopped immediately at her request, giving her time to relax a little before continuing, his hands gently caressing her body and hair.

The entire act seemed to be taking far longer than she had expected it to; time moved slowly, almost _dragged, _left her feeling slightly disillusioned; although she had been quite close to climax _before _he'd pushed himself into her, she got nowhere close to that feeling after. She moaned merely from the discomfort more than pleasure, she wasn't sure where exactly the pleasure was supposed to be, and she didn't dare convey that thought for fear of hurting his feelings.

She couldn't help but watch him as he moved slowly against her, his concentration and focus were exceptional but there was a vaguely frustrated look on his face that reminded her of a goal keeper who'd been standing at the goal posts forever waiting for any kind of action to be thrown in his direction; He was still part of the game, but he was just there, not actually doing much. Seeing his frustration, she almost felt guilty enough that she almost _asked _him if he wanted to go faster...if it'd _help. _Before she could even word it, he quickly grew pale and he looked at her strangely, his eyes were wide, his mouth fell open. She'd wondered if that was _it, _the look that men were supposed to get at the point of no return; it wasn't until he withdrew quickly and darted away from her to lean over the edge of the railing that she realised something was wrong.

He retched, a pathetic sound that seemed to gargle a little, yet nothing escaped his lips as far as she could tell. She grabbed the nearby towel and pulled it around her waist, body flushed with embarrassment and her spine tingling with anxiety, her backside _hurt _from being in the same position for so long "Remy...what is it...?"

"I..." he hunched over a little, he smoothed his hair away from his sweaty forehead, "I..."

"Is it a hangover?" she got up carefully, it hurt to walk a little, strange pain from inside that made her walk in quite small steps.

He shook his head, he was breathing in and out slowly, seeming to try and calm himself.

"Seasick?" she asked, she touched his arm and he moved out of her touch quickly, he heaved and a small burst of vomit escaped. He took a minute, unable to speak, breath coming out in a shuddering mess. He gave a slow almost hesitant nod.

"You never said-"

"I don' usually..." he breathed, his knuckles were white as he gripped the rails. "Sorry...I..." he shook his head. "Guess it's jus' the motion..."

"It's okay..." she touched his back, he shrugged out of her touch quickly again, his eyes were wide and he looked strangely – for just a brief moment – _intimidated. _

"Sorry," he lowered his eyes, they seemed to gaze into space. "Listen...I...I don' feel so great...I...think we ought t' get back t' land now..."

She gazed at him, not sure how to take the suggestion after all that had happened moments before. "Ah'll...go, uhm..." she clenched her teeth, looking around, not sure how to say that she felt like she needed to shower. She didn't need to finish the sentence, he gave a slight nod. Rogue said nothing to him, she simply turned and went below deck to where the bathroom was, wondering what had suddenly gone so wrong.

* * *

**End of Part Eight**

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**I wasn't sure if I was really going to put this in or not, but it seemed about right. Not sure what the thoughts are going to be regarding the sex and all that (or Remy's 'seasickness' for that matter. Thanks to all for the super nice reviews as always. Hope you all are enjoying the story and all. :) Have a nice weekend. Love you all :)**

**ps. Before anyone asks, yes I _have _seen the article about the scroguard condom, and no, it's definitely NOT going to be in this story, lol.**


	9. Part 9

**TROUBLE IN ST. TROPEZ**

**Part Nine**

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**Although given what the entire story has been about, there's probably no surprise to this, there's probably a trigger here or there in this chapter, just wanted to throw it out there so those sensitive to the issues of sexual abuse/molestation/rape and everything else devastating of the like will have warning that you'll probably see a reference or two in this chapter. Nothing too graphic or anything, but I just wanted to make sure there was some awareness.**

* * *

Remy couldn't look at Rogue. He just couldn't.

Everything had been going well, fantastically under the circumstances. There had been hiccups, yes, limitations and a lot of work to get there, but everything had been as it _should _have been. It wasn't the most _pleasurable _sex he'd ever had – it didn't even _matter _that it wasn't. All that mattered was that it was with _her, _it was _their _first time, and everything was as it had meant to be.

Everything had briefly felt like it was falling into place, going to plan. Their relationship could only be reinforced by going this far, he'd felt that strongly and that sure...and he was absolutely _certain _she felt the same.

When she'd _said _she was ready he was certain she had meant it, he could see in her eyes she _did _want to go further, although there was always that slight hesitation lingering there. Her hesitation was what had made him so _determined _to be so careful, despite how painfully slow and almost tedious it had been. It was small price to pay and he didn't _mind _it. It had _still _been wonderful in ways he couldn't explain even to himself.

But then it had all changed...so sudden.

He'd glanced down at her, her beautiful green eyes staring back at him, pale unripened olives catching the warm light from the three o'clock sun and turning the colour of _grass._ Her hair had been sparking, her cheeks were pink, perhaps only partly from the sun and partly from her shyness.

He had been watching her almost that entire time, looking for the subtle signs, the ones that were supposed to tell him how to proceed...whether he should push himself deeper or harder, whether she needed him to _stop _but couldn't find the words. There was nothing there out of the ordinary in her expression, other than the insecurities than a virgin who was still trying to adjust to this new and slightly uncomfortable part of their relationship.

And then, just in the blink of an eye, everything had been ruined. She _hadn't _been Rogue any more.

She'd been Jean-Luc, his yellowing teeth, his yellow eyes, bloodshot and wild, he was just as he'd always remembered him...unshaven, unclean, greasy lank hair, nose wrinkling and teeth clenched they always were when was at what Remy had always referred to as 'his moment'.

A cold shower couldn't have turned him off quicker than this, being thrown into water surrounded by icebergs couldn't have left him feeling _colder..._couldn't have _frozen _him moredespite the blazing heat right on his back. Nothing could have _ruined _his first time with his wife quite as effectively as seeing Jean-Luc in her place.

He'd had to stop then and there, there was no continuing...he could still hear her confusion as she chased him, could still feel her worried touch upon him and it still left him slightly cringing.

Yes...everything had been ruined.

He could barely find two words to say to her the entire journey back to land. Caught between his anxieties about what he'd seen, the urge to _tell _her and the knowing he should _never _tell her. That was a conversation that was _doomed _to go horribly wrong. She'd never understand and never be able to _accept _that kind of revelation, especially not at what Remy felt was a very sensitive time in their marriage.

He could already predict how she would handle that kind of information...she'd overreact, she'd get hostile, or upset, she'd use it as an excuse, that perhaps it was a sign that they weren't meant to be together. She'd ask him questions..._private _things, things he didn't want to tell her about, things she would _never _look at him the same after knowing.

Everything right now depended on his ability to act as if everything were fine; unfortunately at this moment that felt truly impossible. He had no problems feigning seasickness for the rest of the journey by water; he'd had to excuse himself twice to _really_ vomit, leaving her at the helm. Jean-Luc's appearance had sickened him. Try as he might, he couldn't calm himself, couldn't still the crawling feeling in his skin.

It had _ruined everything. _

"Are feelin' any better now, sugar?"

Remy blinked himself out of his reverie, Rogue was at his side in the rental car, he was at the wheel and somehow he couldn't even remember docking the yacht, nor walking to the car. He couldn't remember getting in nor putting the key to the ignition and yet they were at a red light. He couldn't remember turning the radio on either – perhaps she had. Had he been in _that _much of a haze?

"Yeah," he lied.

"You've stopped bein' sick, at least," Rogue said, he heard the frustration in her voice, sensed she were attempting to keep conversation going. "You still look pale, though."

"I'll be fine, jus' need some rest," he decided, the lights changed, he eased the car forward, his foot slipped from the clutch as he went to shift gear and the car stalled. He gave a sigh and returned the ignition. He could feel Rogue _observing _him_, judging _that error.

Rogue's posture seemed quite stiff, at least, as far as he could tell from his peripheral vision. He couldn't look straight at her right now, he couldn't for fear of what he'd see. He was afraid if he did, Jean-Luc would be sitting there in her stead...and there was no telling what he'd be do.

_Jean-Luc is dead...he ain' comin' back, _Remy thought angrily at himself, he tried to focus on the journey and _not _on these things.

"So..." Rogue said after a moment, she sighed a little.

"So..." he repeated, eyes on the road, never tearing them away for even a moment to see her.

"So...uhm..." she faltered.

Remy winced inwardly, thinking of how terrible it had been, how abruptly it had ended and how _confused _she probably was. He remembered a conversation he'd had with her weeks ago about how sex wasn't what it was cracked up to be...he certainly hadn't done anything to leave her thinking otherwise. _Try t' fix this, 'fore she brings it up, _Remy told himself. He didn't want to have to discuss this right now.

"I was thinkin'..." Remy spoke up, hoping to interrupt her from bringing up _anything _about what happened in the yacht. As important as the event was, he didn't _want it _anywhere near his thoughts right now. "Maybe I shouldn' go back t' Bayville tomorrow."

"But...you promised..."

"I know," he said dully, "It's jus'...y' know. Lil' soon."

"We've gone through this," she reminded uneasily. "What's wrong with going back to Bayville? You keep talkin' about puttin' it off...is it _that _scary?"

"I'm not scared," he contested, "I'm...just...I'm...I'm not sure I'm really gon' be...comfortable there."

"Comfortable...?" she asked, sounding confused.

"Or welcome."

"Of course you're welcome," Rogue spoke up.

"It's jus'...I'm not sure me and your people gon' get along, y' know?"

"So...what are you _sayin'?_" Rogue asked, her voice got louder, the upset clear. "Are you sayin' you're not _comin' _back with me?"

"Chere, I.."

"Ah knew it," Rogue snorted, she shook her head; he spied her disbelief out of the corner of his eye. "Ah knew the minute Ah let you _near _me that you were gonna get weird, and by _God, _Ah was _not _wrong, was Ah?"

"Marie..." he tried meekly.

"You're so _predictable, _Remy, you know that?" she slammed her hand stubbornly against the dash. "Ah give in, and suddenly Ah'm not a challenge any more so you want to find the first opportunity to _ditch _my ass-"

"Chere," he spoke up, a little louder this time

"Ah was _warned _about you...after all the things Ah heard about you Ah _still _trusted you and-"

"Rogue, christ," he burst, "will y' just listen?!" he snapped.

She fell silent, her breathing was heavy, it pained him to have put her in that kind of angry state.

"I want y' to come _with _me..."

Rogue stopped, he felt her turn towards him. "Come _with _you? With you _where?"_

_ "_I don't know...maybe Italy...maybe even Russia."

"How about Iraq," she muttered.

"Fine, we'll go to Iraq," he replied dully. Iraq still seemed _better _than being where the people who knew his secrets were. Where rumours may fly and people may look at him with pity...or like a dirty thing to be looked down upon.

"Really?" she snorted, "you're _that _desperate to stay away?"

"No...I jus'...think it'd be nice t' get away...far away."

"Far away?" she asked, "from _where_?"

"From _anywhere."_

_ "_Then it's perfect, 'cause Bayville is pretty much far enough from anywhere that you'll get exactly what you want."

He sighed silently.

"We can't stay away from home forever," Rogue put simply, "Ah know you're...Ah don't know..._freaked _about the idea of switchin' sides, not sure if you're gonna be able to actually _commit _to doin' the _right _thing for once..."

"It's not that..." Remy sighed.

"Then what, Remy...? What is it about comin' back that you're so freaked about?"

Remy looked down, her hand was upon his knee, he brushed it away, finding it hard to _not _think of Jean-Luc's hand instead thanks to that horrible _vision _of him on the yacht. "Not while I'm drivin'," he explained, as if trying to justify pushing her away. "And I'm not freaked, I jus' think...y' know, it's gon' cause a lot of problems."

"For _whom?"_

_ "_Both of us," Remy replied.

"What problems?" Rogue dared.

"Well...we both know your friends don't like me..."

"Remy...no one has ever said any such thing," Rogue sighed. "You've never even _faced _half of the others outside of a brief spat. Why the hell would you think anyone _hates _you?"

"It's implied...they hated Magneto, they hated the Acolytes...they gon' hate me."

"They don't even know you," Rogue reminded.

"I'm easy t' hate," Remy reminded.

"They'll get to know you and they _won't._ And Logan, he-"

"_Hates me," _Remy snapped. Logan...it always came back to him, didn't it? Her idol, the man she loved the most above all others, the one she thought of more than anyone. He may have seen Jean-Luc's face during their _love-making, _but for all _he _knew, she'd been _fantasizing _about seeing _Logan's._ His skin only crawled more at that thought, the thought left him feeling as if millions of minuscule insects were creeping beneath his flesh, moving in every direction, he tingled uncomfortably with the idea of it.

"He doesn't hate you. Believe me, if he hated you, you'd _know it,_" Rogue said, she gave a strange laugh, "he'd make your life a livin' _hell _if he didn't care about what happened to you. And if he didn't care about you, he certainly wouldn't have gone to so much trouble at the funer-"

"Can we not talk about this right now?" he interrupted, frustrated. "I'm sick of hearin' about him. Sick t' fuckin' death of hearin' about the funeral, of hearin' about the big easy. Jus' fuckin' drop it, okay?" he swallowed hard.

Rogue paused, seeming slightly offended about the way he snapped about this, but she took a moment and then tried again, "Fine," she said, her tone slightly hostile, "What _do_ you want to talk about, Remy?"

"I don't know, just...not that..." he gazed ahead, he couldn't even believe they were almost at the villa already. It had been a strangely fast journey. He couldn't even remember taking the turn onto the right road.

There were a few moments of awkward silence lingering between them, but it was Rogue who broke it; he'd known somehow she _would _be the one to do so.

"We have to go home, Remy," Rogue said finally, her voice had softened and he hated that he felt _guilty _that he hadn't even had the chance to apologise for snapping first. "Ah know it's a little dauntin' for you but...you'll feel better when you're there. Everyone is gonna accept you...and like you. And you'll have a blast there...things that matter here or...elsewhere...they won't _matter _in Bayville..."

He wasn't sure about that promise, but he decided to accept it all the same because he was very tired of fighting, tired of the awkwardness.

"Fine..." he said as stopped the car at the foot of the driveway outside the villa. "If we're gon' leave t'morrow, I gotta go speak t' the villa owners. I'm supposed t' keep them informed."

"You gonna ask for a refund on the days we're not here?" Rogue sounded puzzled, "'cause Ah thought you didn't really care about money."

"I don't care about the refund, but I'm legally supposed t' tell them if we're not gonna be there. I guess 'cause they need t' know someone ain' here robbin' the place while no one is checkin' in on it or somethin'," he shrugged, staring down at the wheel. _Look at her, for gods sake, she's your wife, just look at her._

He couldn't make himself look right now, the entire event was still too close to the bone.

"Can't you call?" she asked with a sigh.

"My phone ran out back on the yacht..." he sighed, "'sides...really should be in person. I have t' fill in some paper work, sign some things."

Remy stared at the wheel. _Why are y' lyin' t' her. Tell her...tell her everythin'..._

_ "_Maybe you should wait until morning," Rogue suggested. "You look tired..." she touched his arm. It took all the strength he had to not pull away from her touch.

"We'll be goin' in the mornin'," he replied, his voice was drained of every bit of energy and emotion, he was sure if _he _could hear it in himself, _she _definitely would. "I shouldn't be too long. We'll go over the travel plans back t' Bayville when I return."

Rogue got out of the car slowly, "You want me to make you somethin' for dinner?"

Remy shook his head, "I'm not hungry, I'll be back soon. Y' better go look for y' phone...see if y' can find it while I'm away. Maybe it didn' end up in the trash."

_Yes, that's gon' keep her occupied for a while, _he supposed.

Rogue stared down at him, he felt her eyes burning through him and he still could not look at her; it _hurt _that he couldn't look at her. It made his chest ache as if something was _breaking _it hurt so much to not be able to look at his wife at that moment. Quietly, he murmured, "I love y', chere."

She seemed to be somehow surprised by the admission, judging by her hesitance, but she managed a weak, "me too," as she stepped back from the car.

Hating himself that he wondered if she really _did_, he drove off, leaving her standing outside the villa on her own.

* * *

One am.

It was one in the morning and he _still _hadn't come back.

As she stood at the front door of the villa gazing out on the road, she mentally kicked herself for _believing _his claim about going to see the owners of the villa about their leaving early. She felt ridiculously naïve for believing it. She supposed if what had happened on the yacht hadn't been weighing so heavily on her mind she may have actually questioned why she shouldn't go along with him.

It was dark out there, the drone of occasional traffic far away and the sound of the waves on the other side of the villa were all that broke the silence. A decorative palm tree stood nearby, its leaves swaying gently in the breeze.

"Damn it," she muttered aloud to herself, feeling slightly better just to talk to herself, knowing there was no one nearby to hear her. Just to hear another voice calmed her just a little, even if it was only her own. "Damn you, Remy."

She came inside, slamming the door stubbornly. He'd been gone since almost five. Seven damn hours. There was no way it was going to take seven hours to discuss leaving the villa.

_Unless he went to make the plans to leave himself, _Rogue reasoned, trying to almost justify his taking off. Trying to see the bright side of it because she really didn't _want _to see the horrible dark side.

And there was a very large dark black hole trying to suck her in with reminders about what had happened. She'd given herself to him, he'd clearly _rethought _everything, and now...now he was making his escape. Wasn't it the kind of thing she'd heard a lot of people in his home-town say he was capable of? How he had girls he would leave in the dust.

And now...she was one of them. She was probably the _only _one he'd been with who had made him physically _sick. _

By now, he was most likely on a plane back to the states. For all she knew he was in the aeroplane _bathroom _as one of the mile-high club's _frequent fliers _by now with some cute stewardess with a tan and blonde hair. Someone he could _really _enjoy, someone who knew what they were doing.

Rogue felt tears sting her eyes and she sat on the step by the split level floor and rubbed her aching head. She wasn't sure if it was the lingering echoes of her hangover, or it was frustration and devastation that she'd let herself get conned into all this. Now...now she was here alone and Remy had dumped her and she had _no _way of getting back.

_No phone here, no internet, can't find _my _phone...Remy has his phone with him. Ah'm screwed. There probably isn't a payphone for miles...and even if there is, how do Ah know how to dial to the states? Ah don't know enough French to ask an operator to get me through to Bayville. Shit...shit...shit. Why didn't Ah pay attention in French class?!_

Foolish. It was the only word she could use to describe herself right. She was a fool to get dragged into any of it, to _let _herself be. She should have expected all of it, should have let things she'd learned about him forewarn her, should have listened to Logan when he'd told her to be careful with Remy. Logan knew an unstable and unpredictable person when he saw one; he had to look it in the mirror every day. She should have trusted that alone.

She got up again and went to the front door, sure she could hear a car driving up the road and her stomach jumped a little at the hope it was him finally returning. He'd come home perhaps, annoyed because perhaps the car had broke down...perhaps he hadn't been able to get word to her of course because she'd lost her phone...and his phone, hadn't he said it'd run out of power on the yacht?

There were reasons, there were always _explanations _to things...maybe it didn't have to be bad...

Anxiously, she gazed out of the open door as the car she'd heard drove right on by the villa; it wasn't Remy, it wasn't their rental car, just a small delivery van. She felt foolish for being so _hopeful _at that moment.

_He said he loved me...you don't _do this _to someone you love, damn it, _she swept an angry tear from her hot face, feeling very humiliated and used. She felt like hitting something...or someone. Preferably _him._

_ Everyone told me guys did this, and Ah thought Ah'd never be one of the girls who _let _a guy away with it. And then _he _walks into my life, he's nothin' but a snake. He hypnotised me and Ah become just as...as foolish and charmed as the rest of them...just as-what was that sound?_

Rogue turned back to stare into the large villa living room; she'd heard a strange clicking noise. Someone was in the _villa; _she heard heavy footsteps coming from the bedroom. Someone was breaking _in._

She drew her breath and switched the lights off hastily and she slipped into the shadows quietly, pressing her back into the darkest corner, she grabbed for the nearest thing she could find, which was a decorative statuette of some description, she held it above her head and waited. There were footsteps, slightly heavy and uncertain footsteps. It wasn't Remy, he'd been wearing sneakers, no way were they going to make that kind of noise on the floor.

Who was on the other side of that door? A burglar? Murderer? Whomever they were, they weren't going to stand a chance, she knew how to handle herself and if she couldn't fight, she had her powers. It would be a huge mistake for whomever the person on the other side of that door was if their intention was to _attack _her.

The door swung open; that door to the master bedroom had _never _creaked until that moment, she thought it almost ironic. In the darkness, she saw the silhouette, backlit by the dim bedroom lamp on the cabinet by the large bed. Rogue held fast to the statue, breath held, ready to strike, back pressed hard as she could to the wall hoping she could melt into the shadows. The figure was feeling around for a light, she felt her anxiety levels rising, she _knew _there was a switch on that wall and they seemed to sense there was too.

It wasn't Remy...Remy was taller, and he knew where those switches were. No, this was _definitely _some intruder, some bulky shorter intruder.

The light came on and Rogue instinctively swung towards the intruder crying out furiously, the intruder caught her wrist swiftly.

"Just _what _do ya think you're gonna do with _that?"_

Rogue's eyes met Logan's steely eyes, they were strangely bemused as he gazed up to the statuette in her hand, which she realised was a wooden fertility statue and the part in her hand was the phallus. She almost dropped it but he caught it swiftly with his free hand.

"Do I even need to ask?" Logan snorted, letting go of her arm.

"What are you doin' here?" Rogue asked, slightly breathless from the surprise.

"I told you what would happen," Logan reminded; he stood for a moment examining the statue, his expression mixed with curiosity and disgust. He placed it down on the nearest cabinet, looking a little disgusted by the rather obscene nature of the object, which Rogue had never even _looked at _before. She found herself at that moment weirdly wondering long that fertility statue had been in the corner and she'd _never _noticed it? How much else had she _not _been noticing?

"What are you talkin' about?" she asked, trying to bring her nervous heartbeat back down.

"I warned you about the powers."

"But we didn't..." Rogue tried, feeling quite bewildered now.

"He used his powers," Logan answered, his eyes were travelling over every inch of the living room he briefly moved to the kitchen and took a look around.

She blinked. "He _what? When?"_

_ "_Blew somethin' up. Approximately..." he trailed off, dropping his eyes to his watch, "thirteen hours ago."

"And you came here-?"

"Damn right I came here," he remarked dangerously; he opened the fridge and helped himself to a can of soda, popped it using one of his claws and he downed the entire thing in what seemed like seconds. Rogue watched him feeling quite bewildered. "He chewed me out over the phone; knew by the sound of his voice that something wasn't right."

"What?" she asked, feeling slightly impatient. "What do you mean he chewed you out? When?"

"I told you...thirteen hours ago. I called to speak to you – I called yourphone," Logan crushed the can and tossed it into the trash.

"But...my phone is...lost..." she looked around absently, wondering if perhaps it may have been misplaced inadvertently by Remy.

"Yeah, and I'll bet _LeBeau _had somethin' to do with that," Logan snarled, "he gave me some spiel about how you were _his _wife, how I wasn't going to dictate your life for you any more...how I better leave the _both _of you '_the fuck alone_'. Then he hung up on me...then immediately _afterwards _his powers triggered the alarm sensor on cerebro that the Professor set for him."

Rogue gaped. How could any of this have happened _without _her knowing about it? She'd been with him, hadn't she been? Twelve hours ago...thirteen hours ago? They'd been leaving for the yacht. Or...had he taken her phone when he'd gone to get cigarettes? Was that when he'd done all of this? Was that around that time?

"I'm guessing it was your phone that caught the brunt of his powers."

"But..." Rogue began but couldn't continue somehow. She paused. There had been a boom, she remembered being awakened from falling asleep in the bath. He'd told her at the time he'd heard it too, went to see what it was. He'd been standing by the balcony.

_It was him, he _did _use his powers. Damn it..._

"Where is he, anyway?" Logan asked, he helped himself to another can of soda from the fridge; his long flight there seemed to have made him rather thirsty.

"Makin' plans for us to go home..." she tried feebly.

"You know when you _lie, _I can actually _hear it_," Logan threw a disgusted look at her, he took a gulp from the can, "Especially one that poor. Lets try again, shall we? Where is he?"

She sighed and hugged herself insecurely, "Ah..."

"Rogue..."

"Ah don't know...he went away about six or seven hours ago. He said he was gonna go speak to the owners of the villa...then he said he was comin' back and we were gonna make plans to go home."

"You sure you're tellin' the truth?" Logan eyed her critically.

Rogue gave a nod, "Ah swear..." she sighed, she looked away, all kinds of things running through her head again, and Logan's presence only seemed to make it worse, as if his being there gave her _permission _to let it get out of proportion.

"Where do you think he'd go?"

"Ah don't know, Ah don't know this place too well..." she replied feebly. "He could be anywhere. What if he left the country? What if he's hurt somewhere or...if he got himself in a fight again..." she began to ramble worriedly.

"_Again?" _he finished the second can of soda, crushed it in one hand and threw it in the trash with the other.

Rogue winced, she realised she _shouldn't _have said this. It had come out before she'd even thought about it, her anxiety had caused her to blurt it out before _thought _could be thrown into the equation. "Uhm..."

"Rogue..." Logan sighed. Every time he used her name in that way, she felt more and more guilty, more and more of a disappointment.

_ "_He...he got himself in a fight over some petty thing...someone spilt a drink on me...he just...he lost it."

Logan ran a hand through his hair absently, expression troubled, he sighed and looked to Rogue finally, "Is there anythin' I should _know_?" he dared to ask.

"He...He's been drinkin'."

"A lot?"

Rogue sighed, looking away guiltily.

"When he drinks, is he still _compos mentis?"_

Rogue blinked, "huh?"

"Is he _functionin'? _Does he know what he's doin', can he still walk straight? Or is he _all over the place? _Does he get trashed to where he's _dangerous_?_"_

"He...gets to where he can barely stand..." Rogue looked down to the floor, she tried not to let herself break into tears, "He starts talkin' a lot of nonsense. And actin' a little weird...Ah don't know how to describe it. Ah thought it was grief at first, or just his way of cuttin' loose."

Logan grunted, "You see? You _see _why I didn't want you to go with him?"

Rogue pursed her lips, looking away from him guiltily. "Ah'm sorry..."

"You should have been honest from the start."

"Ah wanted to give him a chance, Ah wanted to try and help him."

"You can't help him alone, Rogue. The kind of help he needs isn't the kind of help you can give alone."

"What now?"

Logan headed for the front door, "go pack your stuff – and his too. When I get back, we're goin'. I got the red eye outside on a stretch of beach down about five minutes walk."

"Where you going?"

"Gonna find him."

"How? He's been gone for hours..."

"I'll track him. Just go pack, prepare whatever you need to prepare and wait here."

Rogue groaned, "Maybe Ah should go-"

"No, stay here," Logan warned, "I'll deal with him."

"Don't hurt him!" Rogue gasped.

"No promises," Logan retorted, "Now go pack. Don't worry, I won't come back without him."

* * *

Remy LeBeau was drunk.

He couldn't remember a time he'd been drunker, to when he could _barely _see straight, and barely _stand_. The bar had shut at three in the morning and that had been when they'd finally cut him off. They were quite happy to take his money as long as he was willing to pay extortionate prices for top-notch booze...he was certain if he'd been drinking the _cheap _stuff, he'd have been turfed out hours ago.

It hadn't been the first place he'd gone. He'd almost considered doing _exactly _as he'd told Rogue; he'd parked outside of the villa owners home but hadn't found it in himself to go in and commit to Rogue's plan of leaving. He'd felt so guilty about lying to her that he'd almost been compelled to do exactly as he said. Almost.

But doing so would mean going straight back after...to her. Right then at that moment, he couldn't stomach the idea. He'd driven around for some hours, trying to clear his head, trying to think of what to do before he could even consider going back to Rogue again.

Clear thoughts were impossible, and trying to go home to Rogue after seeing Jean-Luc in her stead was still too jarring, he couldn't do it. That was when he'd eventually realised the only solution was to drink it away. He couldn't let this skin crawling and stomach churning go on all night, couldn't stay away from Rogue with sober fear of what he'd see.

Getting intoxicated had been the _only _choice.

He staggered out of the bar just as all the lights and signs around the place turned off; he stumbled down the dark path towards the lit parking lot, the world swaying around him, the lights blurring everything he saw. He couldn't even remember if he had his wallet or not. He couldn't remember if he left his phone on the bar. Who cared...he could get new ones. Some things were replaceable...his marriage...Rogue, they were the _only _things that he couldn't part with.

His iPhone had sat there (the battery at thirty-five percent although he'd told her it had died on the yacht) and in his drunk idiotic haze he'd waited for a call from Rogue until he'd realised she wasn't going to be able to phone him since he'd _destroyed _her phone. It was unfortunate, but never mind. He'd been drunk enough _then _to tell her all of what was on his mind and he was _certainly _well and drunk enough to tell her now. But he needed to get to her _now, _as hastily as he could before this wore off. Before he could feel Jean-Luc lurking at his back wherever he moved.

He stopped at the side of the rental car; it was now the _only _car parked outside of the bar. He paused, his bladder full to the brim and ready to burst. It'd be a bad idea to get into a car with a full bladder, he thought.

Grunting, he moved to the nearest lamp post to pull the zipper of his cargo shorts, he barely got himself out in time, sighing in relief as bladder seemed to burst like a dam. His head swam as he stood there, he tried to steady himself but still staggered a little. Even in his drunken state he was well aware that if the lamp post hadn't been there to hold onto, he'd be sitting in a puddle of his own urine by now.

Yes, he was well and truly drunk. He knew he must have been, for the things he had been _refusing _to talk about for weeks were suddenly all he _wanted _to talk about. He hadn't quite rehearsed how he was going to tell his wife _everything, _he only knew that once he saw her it was going to overflow from him as quickly as his bladder was overflowing onto this lamppost and spilling around his sneakers.

"You know how hard you are to track?"

Remy didn't need to even bother glancing over his shoulder to know who was behind him. He supposed he should have _expected _sooner or later for another assholeto come haunting him. Always something to get in the way, now it was Logan too. At least Logan was more tangible...unless he was an illusion too; the way things were going lately, it was possible, Remy supposed.

"What is it wi' _you_?" Remy demanded in a drunken slur, "tol' y' t' stay the fuck _away..._y' still come."

"I don't want to pick fights-" began Logan.

Remy turned swiftly, still holding himself and he pointed straight at Logan, the yellow stream glimmering in the lamp light as it splattered over Logan's jeans and shoes. Logan stood there, his eyes blazing cold and angry. He uttered not a single word.

"Y' wan' have a _pissin' _contest over her?" Remy snapped, he squeezed out every drop at the old man before himself away, almost catching himself on the zip. In fact he was almost certain he _did _catch himself but perhaps the alcohol had left him slightly too numb to care. "No pissin' contest gon' win 'er o'er, she choose _me."_

_ "_You think I'm here to fight over her? Didn't we hash this out _last week_?"

"Las' week, whene'er," Remy muttered, he reached for the driver's side door of the rental car with the key, trying to clumsily get it in the lock, and Logan stopped him swiftly by grabbing his wrist.

"Are you _insane_?!" Logan demanded loudly.

"Don' y' fuckin' touch me!" Remy snapped, trying to yank his hand away.

"No one is trying to touch you," Logan held Remy's wrist up roughly and grabbed for the key, "and no one wants to see you _kill _yourself," he grabbed a hold of Remy by the scruff of the neck and pushed him towards the passengers side.

At that point it hadn't quite occurred to Remy of that possibility. Getting behind the wheel of a car while fully tanked up on whiskey was never a good idea, but he'd done it before without so much as scratching his car. He was sure Logan might have seen the thing differently...perhaps as a marvellous advantage.

"Y' sure y' wouldn' _ra'her _I die? Make things easier." Remy muttered. Remy could barely stand properly but he tried to resist only resulting in Logan grabbing him rather roughly under the arms and locking him from escaping, as Remy resisted he pushed him over the tail of the car and held him there hard, one arm hard behind his back.

"Calm down!" warned Logan angrily.

Remy felt Logan's knee pressed against the inside of his and for a moment his memories soared with _horrible _things, of the _rougher _times. Of Jean-Luc. "Y' gon' do it too. Jus' like him. Y' all the fuckin' same...go on! Do it! Jus' like he did."

Even the mention of his name brought the taste of vomit to the back of his throat.

Logan let him go quickly, "you think I'm gonna—Are you fucking _insane?!" _he backed off, looking horrified.

_ "_You gotta have your fun, right?" Remy snorted, he tried to get up but slipped, falling to the hard cement; he felt his hand get a little scratched but didn't care. Pulling himself up right, he pointed an accusatory finger at the man. "Y' probably at it with all y' students...pro'ly un'er the idea they _like _it...you and the redhead pro'ly_..._saw the way y' look at her. Like y' woul' love t' split her like a piece o' lum'er. And Rogue...y' woul' _love _t' be a'le t' get int' her."

"That's enough!" warned Logan furiously.

"Jus' t' find out how tight she be. Tha's where the _obsession _really is, righ'? The _firs' _time, gettin' t' _break 'er..._that be all y' _think _o'..."

"I said that's enough!" warned Logan, he clenched his fist and for one moment, almost swung.

"Go on, do it!" Remy dared. "Jus' like him, fists always gon' be better than words, mon ami, why say it when y' can _bruise it_ in."

Logan was breathing deeply through his nose, mouth pursed shut. His eyes seemed to be on fire with the inner rage he was known for. He took a moment, his fists lowered slowly, his breath escaped in a slight shudder. He was _close _to losing his control over the accusation, Remy wanted to push him over the edge, see how much it took for the jerk to _really _show his true colours.

Silently, Logan moved to the passengers side of the car and opened the door. "I have a high respect for my students, LeBeau," he muttered finally, having clearly considered his reaction carefully. Remy was almost _disappointed._ Swiftly, he grabbed a hold of Remy by the front of shirt and swung him into the passengers seat roughly. "I have a high respect for them _all_. _Especially _Rogue._. _Don't let your bad experiences _filthy up _your assumptions about what goes on in my mind about Rogue or _anyone else_ because you're so far from the mark that you can't even see it in the goddamn distance."

Remy cradled his head, he felt dizzy and sick, "y' say that! They all fuckin' say it don' they?! 'Bout how they respect an' gon' take care o' the ones they say they gonna always look out for...but in the be'room and in the dark...it all turns 'round don't it?!" he snapped.

Logan stood at the door, his hand on it. "_They..._or _He?" _he dared to ask.

"Does...does it ma'er?" Remy asked incredulously, his voice was so slurred that even he found himself repeating words. "They all the same...y'all the same...has t' be some'in' in it f' y'. Peo'le don' jus' care f' no reason. Got t' be gettin' some'in' out o' it..." Remy moved his legs into car simply because he was almost certain Logan would slam the car door upon them and bash his ankles. Logan would probably feel it was _deserved. _

Logan closed the door slowly.

"Take y' in, goodness of their heart...treat y' like one of their own or some semblance t' it. Get y' int' a false sense of security..then in the dark they roll y' over...and force it in, and make y' feel every goddamn minute...make y' taste every last drop..." he spat. "Always somethin' in it f' them. Got t' be some' in there in it f' y'...wish y' jus' _come out _wit' it, stop the _bullshit..._"

Logan stood at the side of the car, he said nothing for a minute or so, then, his voice changed, less hostility, less _threat _in it. "You're right. It's not just out of the _goodness _of our hearts that the X-Men want you, LeBeau."

Remy snorted, he'd always suspected as much.

"You like talkin' straight, sayin' what you mean. You probably want it laid out for you...put it to you in a way you _understand. W_hat do _we _want of you?" asked Logan, "let me spell it out for _you. _We need someone like you in the team, someone with your skill in the field, someone like you who _knows _how to get in and out of places, who isn't afraid of breaking the occasional rule for the greater good. Who can fight, who can handle himself."

Staring off into the dark street, Remy listened.

"You'd be an asset. But then...you _knew _that anyway, or you'd have _never _considered joinin' us in the first place...and that was _always _the plan or so I was told. So...what's in it for you? It's a two way streak."

"Rogue," Remy replied quietly, frowning.

"And that's it?" scoffed Logan.

"That's it," Remy uttered.

"What about the _friendship, _thepeople who will have your _back, _andthe access to _real _trainin', focus on helpin' you hone your powers. What about a home where you'll be _welcome. _And an _education, _and _security."_

Remy stared to the road, he could barely see it any more, just a blur of the pale street lights.

_ "_What about the _promise _that no one – and I _mean _this with every fibre of _my _bein' – _no _one will _ever _do to you what _he _did. Period."

Remy looked away, the world already seemed soft and hazy in his drunken state, but the mistiness of his eyes seemed to soften it more, blur the colours of everything together.

"It's a _partnership, _Remy. This is a _deal _we make with you. But you gotta wanna make it, and you gotta be willin' to let go of some of that mistrust and hurt or you ain't gonna make it there. It's gotta be about _more _than just about Rogue. You gotta make it about _you."_

Sighing quietly, Remy considered this, it still didn't sound like much of a deal considering the things he would have to sacrifice, the _relationship _he may have to. Logan took a few moments, seeming to be rethinking the strategy.

"She's crazy about you, you know."

Turning finally, Remy stared at Logan, the man looked determined, he wasn't about to let this discussion end unless it was on his own terms.

"I've never known her to care about anyone this much...to put herself through such a shitstorm of drama for _anyone _like the way she does for you. And she's asked for _nothing _from you. Not _once._"

_If she loves me, then why she want to leave me? _Remy wondered. _If she loves me, why she want to make the marriage _void, _keep it from everyone...make it like it never happened..._

"When that girl cares..." Logan leaned on the door, "she gives her heart _and _soul. She asks for _nothing _back."

"I've _tried _to give her everythin-" Remy began, eyes stinging, his voice cracking.

"All she wants is for _you _to be _well, _LeBeau. But you gettin' drunk every night...actin' weird, bein' _suspicious..._all you give her is _worry. _She sees you unravelling and it's _hurting _her."

Remy pretended to be rubbing his head simply to use his hand to hide the fact that tears were trickling down his nose. "I'm _not _unravelling," he managed brokenly.

"You're certainly not _dealing_ with things," Logan got into the drivers seat. "I'm taking you _both _back home...and you're going to start workin' on whatever is goin' on. The Professor can get you help."

"I don't need _help..._I just want to be left alone," Remy nearly sobbed.

"That how you want it?" Logan asked, he stopped and turned to Remy. "You want to be alone? To drive everyone away? To drive _her _away?"

No...that wasn't how he wanted it. His sanity was one thing he was almost willing to part with at this stage, but he would _not _part with the one person he _knew _with absolute certainty he was supposed to be with. He didn't want to be _alone _in that way.

"You'll have plenty of time to think about things when we get back to Bayville, when you've sobered up," Logan responded, "You're about to start a new chapter in your life, LeBeau. If you're _serious _about joining us that is. You'll have the tools to turn your life around and to get rid of some of those demons that have been clinging onto you like shit to a blanket."

"I'll never be clean," Remy managed dully.

"We all got our dirty pasts, LeBeau. Maybe we can't bleach it out completely, there'll still be stains bu we can _stop _the dirt from gettin' worse, can kill some of it off like _bacteria..._stop it from spreadin'...from makin' us ill," he commented.

Remy thought it probably the deepest thing he'd ever heard the man say. He sighed, glancing into the rear view mirror as he looked up to check his face of tear stains and just for _one _moment, he saw a flash of Jean-Luc sitting in the back seat, looking right at him. He spun around and turned to look at the back seat.

Logan looked at him strangely, "what is it?"

"Nothin'..." Remy swallowed hard, "jus'...jus' take me home," he requested, head spinning, body feeling drained of all energy. He sank back into the passenger seat tiredly, trying to will everything to go away.

He did want to go home. He just wasn't sure where home _was _any more. Was it at the Villa? Jean-Luc's house in Louisiana? Or Bayville? Or was it in some insane asylum like the kind of place Magneto used to keep his daughter. Remy wasn't sure it mattered in the end, he had the feeling that wherever he went. Jean-Luc wasn't going to leave him anyway.

* * *

**End of Part Nine**

* * *

**I apologise for the length of time it took to get this part up (although surprisingly there hasn't been complaint so far that I've taken too long at least), this one has been written for a while but I've been struggling with the edits and apprehension about putting it up (because we're getting rather close to the end of the story now, with just one more chapter remaining).**

**For those wondering, yes, there will be a third instalment (which is already in the works) which will focus on the Bayville portion of the story (working title 'Beneath the Surface'). **

**As always, I'm super thankful for the reviews I've been sent on the story, they always help keep me motivated and I love hearing what you guys think or predict lol. I'm looking forward to seeing what a few of you think of Remy's reaction to Logan's turning up (practically signing his own death warrant in piss, lol) and of course, the revelation to _why _Remy was so ill on the yacht. I think a few probably predicted it already though.**

**Anyway, have a super week, love you all :)**


	10. Part 10

**TROUBLE IN ST. TROPEZ**

**Part Ten**

* * *

Everything was packed, sitting in suitcases in the middle of the living room; it hadn't taken long for Rogue to get everything together, Remy had been living out of a suitcase since arriving which had cut the time in half. It had made her wonder if that had been how he'd lived his life for the past few years...from suitcases, owning very little but a few outfits and a pack of cards. It almost seemed _sad _to her as she put his things away.

After hastily packing, she checked the entire villa for anything missed (including giving another look for the phone she was missing, which seemed at the time like a rather foolish notion given that as far as Logan was concerned, the phone had _probably _been destroyed deliberately by Remy).

Although it seemed even more foolish than looking for the missing phone, she cleaned up the villa as best she could, feeling a little self-conscious of the idea of _leaving _the place as it was without it being in the same condition it had been when they had arrived (which had been immaculately spotless).

She lost track of how long it had been. Time had seemed to drag but she refused to let herself glance at any clock; the idea of watching time slip away while she remained here feeling rather useless in the search for Remy had left her helpless.

Not for the first time since arriving in St. Tropez, she found herself wishing she'd paid more attention in her French classes at school. It struck her that right now she could be contributing something to the search for Remy. _If they just spoke English..._ she thought dully, wondering if perhaps for the most part staff members everywhere here knew enough basic English to get by but simply weren't speaking it in order to play with the minds of the travellers visiting their country.

_Maybe that's a bit suspicious, _she thought, realising that this thought was perhaps only stupidly trying to distract her from what she was really worried about. She was sitting at the edge of the couch, hands clasped between her knees, waiting for Logan's return. _God, where are they?! _She worried, sitting listening to the absolute silence of the villa, the soft sound of the water lapping at the beach outside. There was something almost lulling about it all that made her want to sleep but she couldn't...not just yet...she had no _right _to sleep even for a short nap when this was happening. Couldn't sleep until she knew Remy was safe.

She felt so guilty, so...responsible for all of this in some way. Over and over again it kept playing in her head, like a CD track on repeat. _Never should have come here. Never should have come here. _

In some ways she wondered what the consequences would have been had she not agreed to come on this vacation. Would he have come alone? Would he have still agreed to come to Bayville?

_If Ah hadn't felt sorry for him, _she thought miserably. _If Ah hadn't wanted to try and help him get over some of the grief...Jesus...this is my fault. _

Perhaps Remy was to blame for some things, but she'd simply enabled them. When he'd ordered drink at dinner, she should have laid the law down and _told _him no. She should have insisted they stay home, she should have made sure he had no access.

_ It was irresponsible lettin' it go on, Ah shouldn't have made those excuses for him, Ah shouldn't have tried to justify it. Ah wasn't ready to handle this, Logan was right._

She got up – carefully, as she still felt pain from her earlier activity with Remy - just as she heard the sound of a car outside. She made her way towards the door and opened it, gazing out as the rental convertible pulled up into the driveway, the lights nearly blinded her.

"Finally..." she said.

"You know how hard he was to find?" Logan muttered after killing the engine, "cost a fortune in cab fares...had to put it all on a credit card. Not lookin' forward to this month's bill."

Rogue watched as Logan walked around the car then unbuckled Remy from the passengers seat; in the porch lights she could see clearly Remy was out cold, head tilted back, mouth hanging open, vomit trailing down one side of his mouth.

"He tossed his cookies in the car," Logan grunted as he hauled Remy over one shoulder, "most likely he won't be getting the deposit back on the car rental."

She stepped aside from the door to let Logan pass by, she wrinkled her nose at the smell of vomit and urine that was emanating from them _both._ "He...put it on a black credit card, Ah don't think he's gonna care too much..."

"Maybe just as well. We're not gonna have time to return the car to the rental. Even if we _did, _the thing is almost out of gas. I wasn't even sure we were gonna make it all the way back," Logan headed towards the nearest bedroom – which happened to be the one Remy had been sleeping in – and dropped him on the bed. "He'll have to sleep this off."

"But-" she began, standing at the door watching him.

"We can't put him in the red-eye like this..." Logan said, "let him sleep it off, shower and clean up."

Rogue leaned against the door, looking at Logan worriedly, "what happened? Where was he?"

"A bar," said Logan, he moved over, he looked tired and rather irritated by the whole situation. Rogue certainly couldn't blame him for that.

"Did he freak? I mean...is everything all right? Did something happen?" she tried, she wrinkled her nose again, the smell of urine was definitely stronger with _Logan _standing there, giving her the impression it was on him rather than Remy. She didn't dare _ask _about it, she was aware with Logan's senses, he was probably well aware of how he smelled.

"Look, I brought him back," Logan said, he softened his tone, "Lets...lets just leave it at that, all right? Go get some sleep, Rogue," he put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"What about Remy?"

"I'll keep an eye on him," Logan sighed. "Go lie down."

Rogue lay on the couch in front of the television. She was exhausted but couldn't let her mind settle enough to sleep. To try and keep her mind distracted, she'd tried putting on the DVD she'd bought, but it was hard to focus on subtitles with tired eyes and she'd hoped that would help lull her into sleep eventually.

It seemed she _had _dozed for a little, felt herself coming out of it, a little confused as to what it was that had woken her up.

Sitting up slowly, wincing at the pain Remy had left her with, she wiped the corner of her left eye, which was stinging a little from tiredness. She glanced around the living room, the light of sunset was starting to come in, orangey-pink beams cutting across the floor, reflecting from the walls. The open patio doors let in a slight cool morning breeze, the white muslin drapes gently swayed.

Sighing, she eased herself off of the couch and moved outside to gaze at the beach; it was beautiful out, the sun streaking light across tapered clouds, the colours soft, the air sweeping over her soothingly. Her exhaustion left her heavy like tar, her mind was thick with it, clogged with cloudy incoherent thoughts as she tried to wake up.

Far down the beach, she could see exactly where the red eye had landed; it was half in the water, she hoped that wasn't going to damage it. She supposed when Logan had landed on the dry beach, he hadn't expected to be there long enough for the tide to come in.

A muffled voice caught her off guard, causing her to turn and look over her shoulder. It was Logan's voice, he sounded upset.

Pushing herself away from the railing, she headed towards the second bedroom of the villa, rolling her head a little from the pain sleeping on the couch had left it in. "Logan?" she asked.

"_C'mon, kid, wake up!"_

Rogue pushed the door open immediately at the almost commanding tone in Logan's voice. Logan was at the side of the bed, shaking Remy.

"Remy!" he snapped his fingers loudly, "wake up!"

Rogue's mind went numb, for a moment she tried to find the words and couldn't.

"He's not breathin' too much," Logan looked up at her, he shook the boy harder, "unresponsive."

The only thing that she could think of at that moment was _Jean-Luc, _hanging from the couch, his skin that pale colour - the _same _colour Remy was now. She'd feared it, she'd feared it would happen if he had kept on that path and now all she could do was stand just as Remy had stood that day in his living room unable to do or say anything.

"Rogue...get some water."

She heard him, his voice was loud, the command was perfectly clear enough, and yet...no, she _couldn't _respond. Everything felt so surreal, she was so _numb._ The craziest thoughts ran through her mind, about how she had hated that shirt he was wearing, about how she hadn't stopped him. About how perhaps they hadn't done enough to help Jean-Luc. How she hadn't done enough to help _Remy. _

"Rogue!" snapped Logan angrily, "water! Now!"

Somehow, she brought herself to her senses, she ran to the kitchen, pulling the cabinet open. In her haste to get a glass, she sent several falling down onto the counter, the smash loud and almost deafening. No matter, it didn't matter, did it? A little broken glass was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. All that mattered was the water. She filled the glass and ran hastily to the bedroom, hearing the glass that had stuck to her boots crunching with every step.

Logan had Remy sitting up, shaking him almost violently; when this got _no _response, Logan did what Rogue _hadn't _expected him to do, which was to slap him brutally on the side that was _already _bruised from past brawls.

Rogue winced at the loud clap of skin upon skin, her hand trembled, the water glass nearly slipping, she felt a little spill onto her socked foot.

Head lolling weakly, Remy's eyes fluttered a little, he mumbled something incomprehensible, a jumble of words that made no sense. Logan shook him again, trying to bring him to.

"Pull it together, LeBeau," Logan commanded sharply, he took the water from Rogue, "drink."

Remy spluttered on the water, coughed, weakly trying to resist. Logan insisted, somehow, Remy got a little down but then choked again.

"Remy..." Rogue stammered, her eyes watering with panic and fear.

"Rogue," Logan said, he sounded eerily calm, "I want you to run to the red eye, get the medkit. Be _fast._"

Rogue did as she was told, she ran as fast as she could along the sand, her feet sinking into the wet sand, she fell twice, first in the damp sand and a little of the tide, and then in the drier part of the sand, leaving the sand sticking to her. She located the medical kit and she dashed back, mind racing with the worst scenarios, afraid that by the time she got there Remy would be dead. She had known how to handle this the first time, with Jean-Luc, but somehow, it being _Remy _made all the information she had known seem to tip out of her head, as if her brain had been a flimsy cardboard box and the bottom had fallen out.

She suddenly understood _why _Remy had frozen that night...why he hadn't been able to do anything to help. It was the terror. She'd understood it somewhere in the back of her mind, but she'd never been able to _truly _relate to it, not until she was in those shoes and they were _far _too big for her.

By the time she arrived, Remy was in some state of semi-consciousness, Logan trying to make him drink in between trying to get him to sit up straight and stay focused on being awake.

"Couldn'...even...couldn'..." Remy's head lolled to the side, Logan took a hard grasp of the boy's face and held it up.

"Stay with me," Logan commanded.

"Weren' how it were s' posed t'..." Remy tried after another moment, fighting the lull of the sleep his body was telling him he _desperately _needed.

Rogue rushed the medkit to Logan, she hopped onto the other side of the bed, fast to catch Remy from falling sideways, "Remy, c'mon. Stay with us..."

He leaned forward, choking, vomiting up a little onto that heinous Hawaiian shirt he was wearing. Rogue couldn't help thinking she was almost glad it was ruined, it seemed more _logical _to think of that than let blind panic stop her from screaming and crying.

"That's right, bring it up," Logan said, rifling through the medical kit, "get it out of your system."

Remy hunched forward a little, he weakly grasped onto Rogue's arm, his cheek resting on her shoulder, he retched and a moment later more vomit came, she felt it through the mesh of her blouse, warm and rancid, she had to hold her breath to try and not be sick herself.

"Hold it together, Rogue," Logan said to her gently, his eyes almost sympathetic. "Can't lose it now."

Rogue dropped her eyes to see what Logan was doing, he had a bag of fluid in the medical kit and he was working to to attach a thin tube to it. "What's that?"

"Portable IV," Logan said, his expression one of focus as he removed a needle from the packet, "Too many missions in arid conditions, Professor insisted on carryin' it just in case of emergency. The med kit ain't outfitted to deal with alcohol poisonin', I got no way of pumpin' that shit out of his stomach or neutralisin' it. I'm no doctor, I'm not _that _proficient with first aid. Best I can do here is rehydrate him and try to keep him conscious until it passes."

"What about a hospital?" Rogue asked.

"The car is runnin' on empty, I'm not sure we'll get to the nearest hospital before it dies out. We could call an ambulance but I'm not sure how the hospital here is gonna handle mutant patients..." Logan grabbed Remy's arm and went about looking for a vein.

"I'm _fine," _Remy slurred, he held onto Rogue, another retch and more vomit spilled down her sleeve.

Rogue watched the needle disappearing into Remy's arm, she winced a little although she was sure he didn't even feel it. More vomit came up, this time much more, Rogue felt it trickling all over her arm, dripping onto her knee. She pursed her lips and looked away, horrified.

"Just a little puke," Logan tried to calm her.

She swallowed hard, the smell was getting to her.

"S'sorry," Remy mumbled, his breathing a little laboured.

Rogue patted his back awkwardly, "it's okay, sugar...just...get it all out..." she soothed, trying to remind herself she'd rather have him awake and _vomiting _on her than unconscious and barely breathing.

"I love y', y' know..." He managed in a mingle of pauses and groans before retching again.

"Ah know..." she sighed.

Logan stood, holding the IV bag up high, squeezing it a little to get the fluid pumping, "just the waiting game now."

Remy's hand grasped Rogue's arm, although he was fairly weak in his drunken state there was something tight and uncomfortable about it, she almost imagined he'd bruise her. "He's always there..." he managed after another retch.

_Trust him to try and pick a fight about Logan while Logan is here tryin' to save his damn life, _Rogue thought in despair. "He's only tryin' to help, darlin'..." Rogue tried to soothe, feeling as if perhaps she were speaking to a _child _rather than a man.

"No...he's..." Remy retched again, every time he tried to get a word out, more vomit came. Rogue felt soaked in it, the bed sheets were ruined with it, the smell was getting beyond sickening. There was so much of it she couldn't believe that much vomit could come out of _one _human body.

"Hush," Rogue said, speaking while trying to hold her breath was rather tricky, "we'll talk about it later," she smoothed his hair from his face with her gloved hand, he was clammy and a strange colour of green that reminded her all too much of Jean-Luc on that night.

"He shouldn' be here..." Remy gurgled.

"Remy..."

Remy went limp in her arms, his breathing heavy against her shoulder.

"He out?" Logan asked.

Rogue gave an uneasy nod, his weight was hard to support.

"Okay, lay him on his side," Logan instructed.

"Is...he okay?"

"Just unconscious..." Logan promised. "Go clean yourself up..."

"But-" she tried. She couldn't leave him, not like _this._

"He's out for the count now...he's brought up a lot of the alcohol – already that's going to improve his condition. He's gettin' fluids, he'll pull through. His breathin' is already much better now..." Logan observed.

"If...if anythin' happens-" Rogue felt tears threatening to spill.

"I'm _not _going to let anything happen, Rogue. I'm here."

"But..."

"I'll call on you if _anythin' _changes."

Unwillingly, she went to the bathroom, trying to trust that Remy was in good hands. There were no more capable hands right now than Logan's, and yet, her fear and her doubt still left her feeling uneasy about leaving him there all the same. She shed her clothes, and threw them into the sink, trying to rinse away the mess, standing there in her bikini, which she'd still been wearing beneath since the yacht.

The tears finally trickled down her cheeks as she stood there trying to desperately scrub out the vomit out of clothes that only _hours _ago she'd thought of getting rid of but now couldn't stomach the thought of _losing _merely because _he _had given them to her. Standing there scrubbing, her nose running, she tried to stifle the sobs against the back of her hand periodically, at one point biting down on her engagement ring hard to try and prevent herself from making a sound and alerting Logan in the next room. She wished she'd been _strong _enough to resist the urge to cry but she wasn't, this was too distressing, and there was no way of fighting it any more.

When the mess had been cleared away as best she could, she wrung her clothes out, hung them over the towel rail, and she climbed into the shower, shed the bikini, and rinsed off quickly; she felt like she couldn't afford any more time spent away from him. It was funny how eight hours ago she'd almost been looking forward to not spending every moment with him and at that moment in time she could think of anything _but _spending time at his side.

She pulled on one of the complimentary bathrobes, tied it tightly, swept her wet hair from her face and went back into the second bedroom. Logan was standing with an unlit cigar between his teeth, still holding up the IV, which seemed to be half empty now.

Her voice sounded hoarse and cracked with emotion when she spoke to Logan, even as steadily as she tried to speak, it still came out slightly trembling.

"How is he?"

"He's doin' all right now," Logan said, "come here, hold this, I need a smoke."

Rogue came over, taking the IV from him.

"Just hold it up, give it little squeeze every minute or so, okay?"

She gave an uneasy nod, holding her arm high, her eyes dropping to Remy who despite the mess, despite the sweat, the paleness, seemed to be sleeping almost peacefully now. To see him look as bad as Jean-Luc had that night left her heart aching in ways she'd never known _possible._ It was strange, she thought, how it was always these moments, these moments of thinking of losing him, of something _bad _happening to him, that always led her to a little more understanding of how much she cared for him.

Logan eyed her a moment, his expression dull, he gave a deep sigh which ended in a grunt, he lit the cigar and moved away to the open patio doors leading out to the other side of the L-shaped balcony, "that look on your face," he grumbled.

Her cheeks felt warm, she wasn't sure what he meant, she couldn't see her own face where she stood and she didn't want to turn towards the mirror for fear of seeing it.

"That look – that's what caring so much does to people. Puts the fear of god into 'em."

Her eyes dropped to the floor, she felt her vision blurring with tears again.

"Spendin' every wakin' moment wonderin' if they're okay...what they're doin'...not hearin' from them for just a couple hours...that little sense of panic..." he took a long drag from the cigar, leaning against one side of the patio door, he exhaled a stream of smoke out into the early morning air. "Worst case scenarios runnin' through your head..." he scratched his stubbled chin, "wouldn' wish it on anyone your age."

"Is that why?" Rogue managed, she squeezed the IV bag gently, she managed another gaze at Remy, heart aching with every new look she'd give him.

"That we're pushin' for the annulment?" Logan asked, he paused for a moment, he took another drag from the cigar; even though the patio doors were open wide enough to let the smoke out, she could still smell it. "We don't want to see you hurt, Rogue."

"He wouldn't hurt me..." Rogue tried weakly. If that were so, she wondered why he'd run off after _bedding _her on the yacht. Absurdly, she caught herself momentarily wondering if it could be _called _that. Bedding? Perhaps _yachting _might be more appropriate. It certainly sounded less...obscene and awkward than what it was...which she supposed _technically _was sex.

Particularly tedious and rather unfulfilling sex at that.

"I don't think intentionally, no," Logan supposed, he scratched his chin again, the sound of his fingernails on his growth made Rogue cringe a little. "But...that's what love _is _at your age...and with him – _especially _right now with what he's goin' through – that's exactly what it's gonna be."

"You don't know that," she responded, swallowing her emotion hard, "he's...good to me...we're happy..."

"I don't see happiness in your face right now, kiddo," Logan admitted, "Each time I see you and him in the same room...that look on your face, it just gets worse and worse, you worry about him, you _hurt _for him."

"Like you're an expert?" she scoffed, "since Ah've known you, Ah have _never _known you to show _any _interest in a woman that way...ever."

"Not everyone needs a relationship to define their life, Rogue. Sometimes friendships are fulfillin' enough."

She hugged herself with her free arm, squeezing a little on the IV in her right, "he...he thinks you're in love with me."

"I know he does. He's made it perfectly clear to me that's what he thinks..." Logan snorted, "it's paranoia...especially now."

"What do you mean?"

"It makes sense...He lost his father...his brother and him are estranged...he's practically exiled from Louisiana, from his guild...he gave up a lot. He doesn't have anyone else...he's severed all ties with every affiliation he ever had over the past year. You don't get that you're the _only _person he really has left?"

Rogue tilted her head, she stared at Logan, he had a look of avoidance in his eyes, a darkness, he was troubled by something. "He has all of us...the X-Men."

"It's gonna be hard for him to let us all in."

"Logan," Rogue swallowed hard, she felt a lump growing in her throat, "you...you don't, do you?"

"I don't what?"

"_Love _me..." she managed weakly.

Logan gave her a dangerous look, "thin ice, Rogue."

"You've always been straight with me..." Rogue reminded.

"If you think that I would be like that scumbag father of his...take advantage...then you're as messed up in the head as that family of his," Logan accused, his tone hostile. "You've been lettin' him influence you..."

Rogue lowered her eyes guiltily.

"Christ, do you think I'd be here _helping _the son of a bitch after everythin' if I thought for one minute that you belonged to me that way?" he pointed out. "You think I'd try to keep him alive?"

Rogue couldn't help but feel like he was avoiding answering the question.

"Okay, you know what, maybe I _do_, Rogue," Logan admitted, "But not in the way that _he _thinks," he frowned getting frustrated, "Fuck, I hate talkin' like this, it never comes out right," he muttered. "The feelin's I have for you go beyond the kind a teacher should have...the kind of pride for you, the respect I got for you...the worry and constant on edge wonderin' what you're doin' sometimes...you may as _well _be mine...not my _lover, _Rogue...but like one of my own.._."_

Her breath caught a little in her throat at the admittance of it, of the awkward way he spoke, the way his voice – which was always _so _gruff yet composed – trembled a little.

"And maybe it ain' too full of myself to say I get the feelin' you think the same 'bout me...more than you do 'bout the others back home."

"Ah do...think of you like that," she admitted quietly, her cheeks hot. This was such a strange topic to be discussing over the body of a man suffering alcohol poisoning.

"If you said the word today, I'd put my name on paper and take you on as my own. Not as a foster parent, but legally _adopt _you, I would give you my _name."_

Rogue sighed, thinking perhaps it might be an over-exaggeration. Logan didn't know his real name as far as she was aware judging by the memories she'd seen by absorbing him in the past. She supposed it was more than fitting though, seeing as he didn't know hers either. Strange to be having this somewhat deep discussion...and they were _still _practically _strangers _in some regards.

Logan put the cigar out on the inside of his palm, wincing a little at the burn before he pocketed it. He rubbed the inside of his palm for a moment, brushing away the ash, his expression thoughtful. "It's been a long night...it's already sunrise," he grunted, "You should go get some rest while you can, I'll wake you when it's time to go home," he came to take the IV from her.

Rogue nodded slowly. She couldn't wait to get back home, she couldn't wait to feel a little less overwhelmed. At the same time, she strangely dreaded it, dreaded the reprimand she might receive from the Professor for getting _married,_ for running off without saying a word. And most of all...she dreaded finding out how Remy would survive in Bayville.

* * *

Remy felt god awful when he came to, his head was spinning even lying _down. _He raised a hand to his head. The smell of vomit was _thick, _it was the second thing he noticed after the headache, the third being that his head hurt far too severely to even attempt to open his eyes. He felt blank, he could remember broken pieces of yesterday morning and afternoon and then somewhere along the lines, everything seemed to blur.

_Fuck...what I do last night? _He wondered, he tried to sit.

"It's about time."

The sound of _Logan's _voice near made him jump; he had almost expected it to be Rogue. He shot up, sending his head spiralling into a dizzy rage, he lurched and turned, vomit bursting out.

"Take it easy," said Logan, he patted Remy's shoulder in an awkwardly reassuring way.

Remy somehow managed to get his eyes open, the drapes were mostly shut except for one small slot to let the air in through the open patio doors but _still _it was too bright. Logan was sitting by his bed, the trash can (or as of late, the dubbed 'puke bucket') lined with a plastic bag was in his hand.

"Jesus..." Remy managed, spitting the last of the taste of vomit out after the second burst. "What the fuck-"

"Take it that means you've blacked out last night then," Logan said, he wrinkled his nose at the smell of the fresh vomit, "convenient for you, I suppose."

"What you-" Remy wiped his forehead, he was sweating profusely. "What you doin' here..."

"What do you _think?" _Logan snorted, "we went through all this last night, but I ain't gonna repeat myself. I'm tired, I've been up all night, I'm gonna take a short nap in the next room while _you _go shower and drink some coffee."

"Where's Rogue?" Remy rubbed his head, he felt the alarm, had she left? Had she brought Logan here to break the news that she'd _gone _for good?

"Relax, she's in the next room asleep on the couch. _Don't _wake her, you're not the only one who's had a rough night."

Remy sat at the edge of the bed, cradling his throbbing head. His cheekbone hurt, more today than it had when he'd been punched during his fight at the nightclub with the Brit.

"You were a mess last night. It was pathetic. It's the last time you're ever gonna be that way. It's time to get a grip now. Like I said, get up, get showered, get dressed and do whatever you usually do to get rid of that hangover. Time to pull yourself together. Fun time is over."

Sighing, Remy stood, the smell of the room was awful, he imagined he'd have some explaining to do to the villa owners when he handed the key back.

Not being able to stomach the sight of the room, he headed quickly to the shower before he felt more sick. He was almost certain he dropped off to sleep standing up in the shower, the cool water lulling him into a strange blissful dreamy state, even though the sound of the water made the headache worse. When he returned to the room, Logan had left to go sleep in the other room, Remy examined the mess left behind.

Vomit everywhere on the expensive sheets and pillows, there were trickles of it on the rug and the floor. Some had slightly even splattered on the wall although Remy couldn't see how. The smell of the room...it was horrendous, vomit, urine and _sweat_. Remy had never smelled anything so bad. There was a plastic bag on the floor, attached to a tube; it looked to him like a portable IV. For one moment he wondered if he'd been _drugged._

No...he realised it was more than likely whatever had been in that bag had been something to counteract his intoxication...not that it seemed to have worked all that well as far as he could tell judging by his inability to remember anything clearly.

He felt sick, he had to get out of this room. He glanced around for his clothes but his suitcase was nowhere to be seen in the room, he stood grasping his towel around his waist, trying to think straight, each thought slammed hard against his head like a wrecking ball bouncing off a steel wall, each thought seemed to leave a _dent _but didn't make a big enough impact to break through to any kind of proper realisations.

Try as he might, he couldn't reconstruct the entire events of last night, he could only pick out pieces of it. He was aware of only _two _events that stood out, two that blurred together horribly, two that left him realising immediately _why _he had been drinking last night.

He'd been with Rogue...he'd gone and made the move and taken her virginity, of _that _he was certain. The memory of how she had _looked _was burned into his memory, although the _feeling _and perhaps the _enjoyment _were vague at best.

And then there was the picture in his head of _Jean-Luc _in her stead. The most _powerful _of the two.

He clenched his fist and swung furiously at the nearest surface, which was the wall. He didn't quite have the strength right now to make much of an impact; his fist however felt it fully and he grimaced and pulled it back, he cradled it in his left hand, the juddering impact of bone against the solid wall still lingering painfully.

"_Fuck,_" he muttered, tears of pain and humiliation burning his eyes. In his mind, he could hear Logan reminding him to get dressed and pull himself together. He had to, there was no choice.

He went to the living room, his footsteps quiet, looking for his suitcase; it was not far from the front door. Although he _tried _not to look (finding it so impossible to want to look at her after what he'd seen yesterday) his eyes automatically swayed towards Rogue, who was stretched out on the couch sleeping, stomach down, head facing towards the television, her left arm hanging over, remote dangling from her fingers. She wore nothing but one of the Terrycloth robes from the bathroom, it was a little loose at the shoulder, her slightly sunburned skin showing where her bikini strap had been been.

His heart ached hard, an icy hand had a vice like grip upon it and squeezed, his lungs seemed to deflate and wouldn't inflate again, and he stood there still, not sure his heart might be beating anymore, not sure he was even _breathing._

She looked so still, but tired and puffy, face a little sunkissed, hair a mess with sweat and sleep. It seemed for moments like time stood still as he couldn't tear his eyes away. He'd almost expected his adoptive father to be there instead, the way he used to lie like that too on the couch at their house, except it was usually a bottle dangling from his fingers, usually vomit on the floor beside.

Finally, Remy's eyes fell from Rogue, and it almost seemed as if suddenly he could breathe again, could feel his body begin to function as it had before he had stared. There was something almost terrifying about that thought, that one more look at her may kill him. Might cause his heart to stop beating for good.

Sighing, he quietly unzipped his case and began to search for clean clothes. Most of them were already worn, he picked out the _cleanest _and _least _smelly ones he could locate and dressed there in the living room, not wanting to return to that sickening and disturbing bedroom of drunken night's horror.

He sat at the kitchen counter for a while and tried to pull his head together; he'd had some hangovers in his day, but this one was horrendous, migraine like in comparison. Had Logan _not _been there, perhaps he'd have simply pulled the vomit stained covers over his head and slept it off...dealt with the consequences later. No such choice today.

_What happened last night? _Remy thought, even his _thoughts _groaned. He turned to stare out of the large windows overlooking the beach, his eyes hurt so bad trying to see anything straight, each attempt to focus seemed to stab his brain like a large carving knife.

"You're up..."

Remy rubbed his head, Rogue's low husky voice was even too loud for him to handle this morning. "Yeah," he said quietly.

"How you feelin'?" she asked, her voice was quiet, groggy. He kept his back turned to her, fingers of his left hand trailing the already swelling knuckles of his right hand.

"Like I was hit by a train," Remy supposed, wincing at the pain his own touch caused his hand.

He heard her moving, he kept his eyes glued to the island counter as she passed by to go start a pot of coffee. There was an uncomfortable silence hanging between them, an awkwardness he was far too aware of being all his own fault. He knew without a doubt he had gone too far this time. There was no way he'd gone through that much sickness last night without Rogue knowing about it.

Keeping his eyes still there on the counter, he quietly said with eerie calm, "I'm sorry."

Rogue stopped in her tracks, midway between the fridge and the cupboard, she gave a strange 'huh' before she turned, he felt her eyes on him, accusatory and disbelieving. "You're sorry..."

"I-"

He hadn't expected her reaction, hadn't predicted her speed. He was usually so good at reading people but it was hard to read someone when you couldn't look at them. She was fast, leaning across the counter and slapping him so hard that his head spun. She caught him on his sore cheek but he didn't dare let her know it. He sat there, stoic, keeping his eyes down the entire time.

"You're _sorry?!" _she demanded, her voice shrill.

He couldn't speak, his voice disappearing, shrinking and withering like a flower in winter. He felt his eyes growing misty, he dare not even try to look at her for fear he may have _no _control over the tears that threatened to spill.

"Do you have _any _idea what you _put _me through last night?!" she shrieked. He felt her reaction a little over dramatic for early in the discussion, but he supposed she deserved that. He wasn't even going to fight her on it this time. He remained silent as she continued, "You could have _died _last night! And all _you _can say? _You're sorry."_

Remy lowered his head and closed his eyes, trying to dull the pain the light of the bright living room was leaving him in.

"What were you _thinkin'?!"_

It was a fair question. He couldn't answer. He only had the vaguest idea of what his reasoning had been but he was sure there hadn't been a whole lot of clear thinking in it.

He got up slowly and turned towards the window, he let his head rest towards the cool glass, closing his eyes and sighing silently. She kept on at him, he wasn't even going to beg her to stop although it was killing him and his head.

"This all _stops, _Remy," she lowered her voice, it was trembling, he could _hear _her shaking with anger. "We're leavin' for Bayville today, Remy. Me and Logan. And if you're still _serious _about gettin' your life together, about _bein' _with me, about makin' a new start..."

Remy sniffled, he _refused _to let a girl reduce him to tears.

"Then you know what your option is..." she turned to go make the coffee, he heard jug shaking in her hand, clattering lightly against the sink as she filled it with water. "Ah can't go with you, Ah can't go with you just to watch you do _that _to yourself every night. Ah can't _love _someone who doesn't even love _himself."_

He curled his injured fist, pressing it against the cold glass, it offered very little relief all the same.

"You fought tooth and _nail_ for your freedom in Louisiana," Rogue continued, her voice grew more frustrated, "you fought for your _right _to live the way you want. So don't _piss _it away. You're a fighter, Remy, so _fight._ Get it together, you're _better _than this."

He opened his eyes finally, and stared out down towards the beach; there halfway in the water, a man was watching them, Remy couldn't focus on the face, too hungover to see clearly, his head hurting too much to strain to pick out the features. It didn't matter. He knew who that was, who was watching him, who was _there._

Sniffing, he wiped beneath his eyes shakily with his left hand, pursing his lips together for a moment and trying to pull himself together, tried to focus on what she was saying. She was right of course, her timing to remind him felt lousy, but he couldn't tell her she was wrong.

"Okay," he managed finally, his voice cracked a little, half with emotion and half with the pain vomit had ripped through his throat.

He realised in the end it didn't matter where he went or what he did; he'd left Louisiana and Jean-Luc had followed him, he'd come with the person he felt the most safe with and still that _danger _seemed to lurk there. He was a grown man who still felt like a child the moment that dark presence lingered by. He could drink all he wanted to, it wasn't going to make it go away, that was clear.

The only person it _was _going to make go away was Rogue.

"Okay..." he said again, he took a deep breath through his nose, "I'll do what y' want."

"It has to be what _you _want, Remy," Rogue said firmly.

Jean-Luc was still on the beach, watching them both, Remy was certain he was probably smirking too. Rogue came by his side and looked out of the window, and he turned to look at her, only briefly, his anxiety rising a little in his chest at the sight of her. He realised she did _not _see Jean-Luc...he hadn't expected her to.

What he wanted was to be with her, but somehow right at that moment, he couldn't get the words out. He was too distracted by the feeling of being watched, too unnerved by the closeness of Jean-Luc's ghost. He turned back to stare down at the beach to find his father gone; the waves seemed almost to have swallowed him up. There was no sight of him, not so much as the breaking of the eerily calm water, nothing stirred.

It didn't matter, Remy released. Didn't matter where he went, what he did, whom he was with...Jean-Luc was always going to be there, just beneath the surface.

* * *

**The End**

* * *

**Well, the end of THIS part of the story, anyway, lol.**

**Sorry for the length of time it took to get this up, had a lot of stress in real life that's made it hard to find time and patience to get to editing. What little time I do find, I've used to spend time writing the third part of the story ("Beneath the Surface") which I'm on part five of currently. Right now I can't say for sure when the third part of the story will be uploaded, I'm hoping for a Christmas upload for part one, but we shall see (it's very rough at the moment).**

**I hope you all enjoyed the story and I appreciate everyone who took an interest in it and took a moment out of their busy days to give a review and share their thoughts on it. To be honest I'm really glad to be done with this part of the story as it took SO long to get out (and finished, lol). Anyway, it's 1am and I'm off to watch a movie before sleepy-time. Hope you all have a great week! Love you all!**


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